Starfox: Revisited
by GL
Summary: Imagine Starfox 64, a game made for children. But take away the silly puns and the childish remarks and there's still something there. Imagine the struggle it was trying to depict, shown in a serious, realistic light. This is War. This is Starfox.
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

****

"INCOMING MESSAGE FROM GENERAL PEPPER," the robot said as he relayed the message from the screen below him, "PRIORITY ONE."

The message cut into voice and began to play in their headsets.

"We need your help, Starfox," the grizzled veteran said with a twinge of worry and hesitation at the same time, "Andross has declared war. He's invaded the Lylat System and is trying to take over Corneria…" He paused for a moment, trying to collect himself, before he continued.

"… Our army alone can't do the job…" the General managed to say, obviously distraught at the fact, "_Hurry_, Starfox!"

By all means they were. They had been running down the corridor from the flight lounge to the hangar bays since Pepper had finished but his second sentence. They knew the drill… But they didn't know the circumstances. Or at least they didn't understand the scope yet.

One by one, they leapt into the cockpits of their ever versatile Arwing fighters, closing the hatches the moment they got seated and turning on the G-Diffuser systems while strapping in at the same time.

The engines of the four Arwings sputtered to life, the pitch of their whines increasing as the power continued to flow through. Blue ion engines flickered to life, the size of their exhaust increasing with the sound until in a split second the fighters were released from their docking clamps, giving the engines free reign in the vacuum and hurtling the Arwings out of the hangar at impeccable speeds.

One after the other, the fighters soared away from their base ship, forming up into a diamond pattern once they had cleared the area. It was only then, out in open space, that they could see what had been unfolding these past few hours.

The blue planet spun before them, miles and miles away from their base ship. At this distance it looked almost peaceful… Except for the explosive blooms that were littering sections of the surface below, their blasts bright enough to negate cloud cover and make them clearly visible from such a large distance.

He sat in the lead fighter, eying the explosions from afar worriedly.

"We're going in," he said over the squadron channel, affirming their action.

This was war.

This was real.

This was Starfox.


	2. Chapter 1

**_1_**

Fox McCloud couldn't help but wonder what kind of destruction had befallen the surface of Corneria. If he remembered correctly, which he was sure he did, the majority of the explosions due to orbital bombardment had occurred on the western coast of the third major continent, which could only mean that the enemy had decided to wipe Corneria City off of the map.

Not that it wasn't a bad target, being not only the capital but so massive that it extended for miles and miles inland, the largest city on the planet. It must have been hit hard… Very hard…

He shook his head, trying to keep the images of destruction at bay. He couldn't afford to be so preoccupied now that he was flying in what could be considered enemy airspace.  
Fox had chosen to fly in from the ocean, far enough away from the main fleet engagement so that they wouldn't draw attention; not flying through the swarm of capital ships had its advantages as well. He intended to take the squadron over into Corneria City where they could survey the damage and take out any noteworthy targets. Some of his squad mates had suggested carrier aircraft, and thinking this was a good idea himself, he agreed.

Nevertheless, the Venomian Army, lead by Andross, had plenty of ships to spare. Fox didn't doubt that'd he'd encounter some steep resistance, but he'd do what he had to in order to keep Corneria in one piece. Still, the task at hand seemed daunting…

He shook the thought from his head again. _Damnit, you're the leader. You've got to keep your cool_, he tried to reason with himself in his mind.

It was time to make a systems check anyway. Anything to distract him, he decided. He switched over to the squadron channel before speaking into his headset.

"Open the wings."

After passing through the atmosphere, they'd come under the influence of the wind, meaning that in their current configuration with swept back wings the Arwings couldn't even maneuver. He pressed a button on the console to his right and heard the familiar sound of the servos as they brought the wings forward. A mechanical clunk slightly rocked the ship as the ailerons unlocked and were immediately acted upon by the air.

The low hum of the engine also changed into a subdued whine. This was because the system had automatically switched from an ion drive into a conventional jet drive using compressed hydrogen. Behind him, the glow changed from a cool blue to a bright burning red. The ion drive would only work in space, so the jet power was used within an atmosphere, and though this decreased performance, along with the force of the air itself, the Arwing was still a very formidable craft.

Meanwhile the rest of his squadron had done the same, resuming formation after they had switched flight modes.

Next up on the list was the G-Diffuser, or Gravity Diffuser. Essentially it was the power plant that kept the entire ship running. Without it, there'd be no shields, no thrust, and worst of all no control. The system was practically experimental, having a tendency to malfunction at the worst possible times unless kept in check. Only pilots who could fight, fly, and keep watchful eye could keep the likes of the Arwing aloft and survive to land it.

"Check your G-Diffuser systems," he radioed. Almost immediately one of his wingmen piped up.

"Falco here, I'm _fine_."

Fox snorted. That was just like him; Falco Lombardi, ace pilot and major pain in the ass. Of all of his team mates, that bird brain gave him the most trouble. Granted he was a good pilot and great to have in a firefight, but when it came right down to it he was brash, hot-headed, and a glory hog. Though he never really stated it aloud, it was obvious he was after Fox for having that number one slot, and he never let it die, even while being subtle.

Deep down in his gut, Fox had the feeling that Falco didn't even check the systems.

"This is Peppy, all systems go," came the next reply, meek and mild-mannered compared to Falco's blunt retort. Peppy Hare was like a mentor, now that Fox's father, James, had been killed. He used to be in the old Starfox mercenary unit, helping Fox create this new one after the old was dissolved in that horrible incident which seemed so long ago. Fox knew he could count on him…

Sometimes, anyway.

"Slippy here, I'm ok."

Now, whenever somebody mentioned Slippy Toad, there was going to be a groan from a good number of people nearby. Slippy was an enigma. Short in stature, big in brains, and a poor hand behind the stick, the only real reason he was on the team was because his dad was the primary designer at Arspace Dynamics back on Corneria. Thanks to him, they were able to take out a contract with the company: in exchange for four experimental Arwings, they had to field test them without bringing significant damage upon them. Of course in a war this was some kind of inane deal, being that stuff exploded left and right, but being the small mercenary outfit that it was, Starfox could use every edge it could get a hold of.

Slippy was quite the novice, but at least he knew what the fighter could and couldn't do. Still, he was going to be a pain. Fox could tell.

A blip on his radar screen suddenly appeared dead ahead. _Here's our welcoming party,_ Fox mused. A few more seconds of flying at Mach 4 brought them into visual range. Six fighters in staggered formation… It was probably just a patrol to find out who the hell had randomly appeared over the ocean.

"I see 'em up ahead," Fox radioed, "Let's rock and roll!"

Immediately Falco, flying on the right, broke off in that direction, and Slippy, on the left, broke off in that direction. Peppy, directly behind, pulled up and soared into the sky. It was their custom formulated attack formation, simply called the Sweep-and-Swoop.

Three fighters would fly side by side low to the ground, sweeping over the landscape and fragging just about everything in sight. Meanwhile, the fourth fighter would fly top cover, swooping down and vaping any fighters that came from the rear of the three below. According to their simulations this tactic worked well to no ends, but this was its first real battle test.

The fighters came into range now, their own exhaust visible over the seemingly endless ocean. Fox put the lead fighter dead in his sights and eased on the trigger.

Three green laser bolts lanced out from below the nose of the Arwing, flying at the speed of light and crashing into the enemy fighter before its pilot could even tell he'd been fired upon. The ship broke apart and hurtled into the water, its smoldering parts doused by the ocean.

It was his first kill. He'd killed someone.

Luckily the moral implications flew over his head at that moment; there were more targets.

The five remaining enemy craft started to break apart once their leader had evaporated before their eyes, but Fox wasn't through with them yet. He stuck another fighter in his sights and let loose, missing with all but one shot which sheared the wings right off of his target and sent it spiraling downwards.

Now the rest of his team wanted in on the action. As expected, fire come from the right, blasting two fighters to pieces in nearly the same instant.

_Heh, showoff… _

Even Peppy decided to take a crack at it as few shots came from above and cut through another fighter like a hot knife through butter. These unshielded fighters were easy pickings.

Fire came from the left, slamming the last of the six fighters into the roiling waters below. That was Slippy's first kill, and he was probably hopping out of his seat in excitement.

Two more blips came onto his radar, instantly drawing Fox's attention from the horizon. More fighters… Two flights it looked like. Apparently the patrol managed to call for help before their atoms were spread about.

"Slippy, get back here!" Peppy suddenly blurted out, making Fox snap his head to the left. Sure enough, there he was, his engines gunning full throttle towards one of the two opposing formations.

"Damnit," Fox muttered to himself as he broke left. Somehow he knew this was going to happen. He had to save Slippy's worthless butt before he got blasted to pieces. Hopefully the Arwing had enough shielding to see him through a few seconds of dog fighting.

"Slippy, watch out, you've got a bandit on your tail!" Peppy radioed again, his voice of higher pitch signaling anxiety. He was probably more centered on the prospect of losing another wingman than he was on just shooting down his pursuer.

One of the two squadrons had broken off and centered completely on him, one of them breaking off to the side and arcing around, right on his tail. Slippy, being the inexperienced pilot that he was, flew right into them.

"Falco, Peppy," Fox said into his headset, "Take the squad on the right, I'll handle this."

"My pleasure," Falco responded, sounding giddy at the prospect of bagging all of those kills mostly by himself. Fox scowled to himself and centered the crosshairs on Slippy's pursuer.

"… Fox!" Slippy blurted out, "Get this guy off me!"

He restrained himself from yelling "Shut up" into the headset as he zeroed in.

One clean shot was all it took, the enemy fighter only managing to take several missing shots at Fox's wingman before he was reduced to burnt debris.

"Thanks, Fox," Slippy said over the radio, "Thought they had me…"

_Uh huh, right_, Fox thought, _Now_ _get back into formation already! _Fortunately he didn't have to say that himself as Slippy pulled back on his own, firing at the still approaching fighters as he went.

Fox toggled his laser system over to dual, diverting power from the main gun into two under-slung weapons which now extended out from the bottom of the Arwing. They had less stopping power, given that they both drew energy from the same G-Diffuser core, but it let him fire more of it off at once, making it perfect for spraying swarms of enemy fighters.

And that's exactly what he did. Not trusting Slippy with taking down all of those ships by himself, Fox lined up his crosshair on one of the tail end fighters and pressed down on the trigger, spraying it with laser fire. Then, slowly, he eased the yoke to the left, dragging the barrage towards the rest of the squadron. By this time they were trying to get a good shot on Slippy, so they didn't even have time to notice the shots and evade before their entire formation was wiped out.

Satisfied that he'd cleared them out, Fox jammed the yoke to the right and flew back into his previous spot in the now dissolved formation.

"Falco, you done over there?" he radioed.

"Heh, yeah," came the response, "Scratch four bandits." Fox couldn't help but grin. That gave him a total of six kills. Meanwhile Fox had nine, thanks to taking out that entire group on his own. Falco wouldn't like seeing those numbers when they got back to their ship, the Great Fox.

In any case, their opposition had been wiped out without a single loss of their own. In fact, they hadn't even been nicked as far as he could tell. Things were looking up for the Starfox squadron.

The black wall of smoke that extended across horizon made a knot form in his gut, whittling his feeling of success down to nothing.

"Form up," he said into his headset, "We're entering Corneria City now…"

_Or what's left of it_, he thought morbidly.

Gradually the ocean slipped away from below their feet, yielding to a mass of sand and then dirt and rock as they crossed into the mountain chain which lay across the beach. Trees, burnt to a crisp, littered the area, and small seaside cottages looked as if they'd been hit by a bomb. Ironically this wasn't far from the truth.

The four Arwings swept over the mountain range with nothing to hinder their advance. The enemy hadn't responded since their fighters had been destroyed, which could have meant that they had eliminated all of the resistance in the immediate area. That wasn't to say that they'd crushed the entire Venomian Army in one small engagement. Corneria City was a battleground, and there were sure to be a lot more where they came from.

Fox pulled up over one last mountaintop and was the first to see it for himself.

The knot in his gut got tighter.

It was total chaos stretching out for miles and miles. There was barely anything recognizable or beautiful about the landscape now that Andross' hand had come crashing down on it. It was No-Man's Land on a massive scale.

Corneria City had been devastated.

Fox nearly smashed into the tall tower bearing a "WELCOME" banner on it which was leaning over on its foundation; he was too busy staring, mouth agape.

Buildings had been either demolished or gutted. And if this wasn't the case, then the force of the massive orbital bombardment had ripped them from their foundations, bending them over in ways which could only lead to their eventual collapse. Everything was on fire, from burned out vehicles to crashed fighter craft to battle tanks. The smoke plumes they caused could be seen from untold miles away, as the team had witnessed on their way in.

For a time, silence pervaded the squadron channel.

"…This is horrible…" Falco radioed, his voice unusually subdued. It was so bad that it even got to the likes of him.

The laser streaking by was enough to break Fox's gaze on the destruction. An enemy fighter, curiously alone, swooped down and opened up on him; Peppy must have missed it because he was staring himself. Fox snapped to the right, dodging the shots, before turning back to the left and spraying the enemy craft with his own weaponry. It burst into flames and did a lazy spin into the ground, passing right by Fox's Arwing.

"Everybody stay alert," Peppy said, apparently having cleared his mind just now.

_We at least he's right_, Fox thought as he dodged some fire from a pair of enemy tanks traveling down a road below, _Man, they're everywhere…_

Another enemy fighter swooped down, only this time being peppered by green lances from above before it could so much as fire. It came apart and crashed in pieces, adding to the already bleak looking battlefield that was Corneria City. It looked like Peppy was ready to do his job.

Fox dove under an overpass and climbed up in time for a pair of enemy fighters to latch onto his tail.

"You've got an enemy on your tail, Fox," Pepper radioed, "Brake!"

_I know, I know_, Fox grumbled in his head as he brought the Arwing down to an immediate crawl, forcing the two fighters to overshoot him. They weren't able to break away before he blasted them to pieces.

"There's so many of them…" Falco blurted out over the channel, "This is too good to be true!"

"Don't get cocky, Falco," Fox responded.

"Back off, Fox!" Falco rebuked, the unmistakable sound of lasers firing playing about in the background.

Fox scowled yet again. Falco was getting in over his head now that the grim reality of war had passed him by. He was going to kill as many of those Venomian bastards as he could, and nothing could stop him; not even the limits of his own ship.

Something big and red caught Fox's eye as he surveyed the buildings. It looked like a giant robot with tank treads for feet, rolling across the ground without a reason.

And then it punched a skyscraper and sent it tumbling over. The building slammed into an overpass right next to it, kicking up all kinds of debris before something inside exploded, probably a power node, as sparks went flying in all directions.

Fox snapped back to the robot and put it in his sights. He wasn't going to let it get away with that… Who knew how many people were still in that building, surviving the bombardment only to be dashed against the ground. He switched over to single fire and held down the trigger, causing the laser to charge up instead of immediately firing.

The crosshairs went red as the targeting computer locked onto the robot. Fox released the trigger and then pounded down on it again, launching the terrifyingly powerful blast towards the mechanical beast which resided below.

Like the building before it, the robot was hit so hard by the shot that it tumbled over on its side before blowing apart, continuing the virtual storm of falling debris.

"Nice job!" Peppy said over the channel, "Keep up the pace!"

"Right," Fox responded.

Another robot could be seen in the distance, barreling towards another skyscraper in a bid to demolish it. Fox showed no mercy, firing at it the whole way until he overshot it, leaving the burning robot behind in the dirt.

Their glancing flight continued for several more minutes as the enemy forces began to converge on their location noting the evident threat.

As Fox was pulling up from a strafing run on a few tanks, he saw a trio of fighters streak past from the left, followed by a lone Arwing which was firing away at them. It didn't take a second to realize that it was Falco, as usual.

Two of the enemy craft caught fire before coming apart. The third survivor broke to the left with Falco in hot pursuit, leading them both in a zigzagging flight path right in front of Fox's ship. A fourth fighter came in from the left now, tailing the Arwing with guns blazing.

"I'll take this one, Fox," Falco quickly radioed, "Get the one behind me!"

Fox complied, though slowly at first, expecting Mr. Hotshot to deal out enough damage on his own and evade his assailant.

Out of nowhere, the engines on Falco's Arwing cut out along with the lasers he was firing. The fighter he was chasing pulled up and flew away, with Falco unable to pursue himself. Meanwhile the one tailing him gladly caught up and opened fire.

"Damnit, something's wrong with the G-Diffuser!" he radioed in a panic. Fox allowed himself to make a wry grin; looks like he didn't check his systems after all.

_Pompous bastard, _he thought.

"Fox, chase him down!" Peppy yelled into his headset. The grin disappeared from his face which now took on a concerned frown. It didn't matter how he felt about Falco; he was still a squad mate. And he was in danger. And it was his duty to help him out.

Fox kicked his Arwing into high gear and flew after them. Falco's engines were sporadically turning on and off, gradually bringing him closer and closer to the ground and to the enemy trailing him. With no shields, contact with either the rock or the hard place would spell doom for the cocky pilot.

He arrived directly behind the enemy ship just as Falco said, "I could use a little help here!" into his headset, apparently directed at nobody in particular. Fox dutifully obliged, following them in their next turning arc and placing the fighter smack dab in his crosshairs before he let loose on it.

As the enemy careened into a building, Falco's ship righted itself and leveled out.

"I guess I should be thankful…" Falco muttered over the radio.

_Yeah, you kinda should_, Fox mused.

Out of nowhere, the Arwing in front of him broke to the right and sped up, engines blaring.

"Wha… Falco, where are ya going?" Fox radioed to him.

"I found the target!" he shouted back, "Try and keep up!"

Somehow that didn't sound like a dare.

"Slippy, Peppy, on me," Fox said to the rest of the squadron, "Let's find out what Falco's onto."


	3. Chapter 2

**_2_**

The squadron doubled back into the heart of the city on what could have been only a hunch, but at this point, with so many enemy units around anyway, it didn't matter.

Fox had been tailing Falco for awhile now. Strangely enough, the cocky pilot was actually avoiding confrontations with as many enemies as possible. He'd gotten a whiff of something, and whatever that something was must have really mattered.

Enemy resistance was still as steep as ever, with a ship or tank just about everywhere you looked. They weren't through with pillaging the city, not there was much of a city left to pillage regardless. But they had to be coming from somewhere. There had to be a base or a carrier of some sort. Was that the target Falco was jabbering about?

They'd started to pass back over the mountains when a squadron jumped them from behind. Peppy broke left and split-essed for the ground, shaking his assailant and eventually dogging him down later, whereas Falco, temporarily halting his crusade, did a vertical loop and got behind two fighters which were chasing him. He blew them apart with a vengeance.

"Time for a little payback!" he hollered into his headset as the lasers diced up his foes.

"We've got an incoming enemy from the rear," Peppy piped up out of nowhere, "Drop altitude!" Fox complied, not second guessing his squad mate's worried voice. He wouldn't have to after he saw it on the radar himself. Whatever it was, it was massive… and closing fast.

His Arwing dipped down over the last mountain and found itself skimming over the ocean again. Two shafts of water were streaming being him like a trail because of how close the tips of his wings were to the surface. Fox noted that he had to be careful at this point; one slip up and his Arwing would go into the water, probably flipping over due to its speed and crashing horrifically.

The entire cockpit became enveloped in a shroud of darkness as the object eclipsed the sun above. Fox looked up to see nothing but a black blob moving steadily forward until it eventually passed him by and let the sun shine through once more.

"Aw, someone wants to play," an unidentified voice bellowed over the squadron channel.

The ship before them spun around but continued to fly, backwards.

"Guys, I'm analyzing now," Slippy radioed, using some kind of sensor package he'd installed on his Arwing. "That thing's definitely a carrier of some kind."

If it was a carrier, it was the strangest looking one Fox had ever seen. In the center was what looked to be like a standard cruiser; however, on one side it had a single large rectangular box along with two similar looking ones on the other side.

Suddenly the pair of containers flung open, and out came a barrage of homing missiles. Reflexes kicked in, and Fox jammed the yoke to the right, dodging two of the projectiles which had been targeting him. They were unable to correct their course at that speed and crashed into the water below. Meanwhile, the other missiles broke off and started homing in on individual ships of the squadron.

Fox could let them handle it. Right now he had to worry about the other container which had turned out to be a launch bay. Fighter after fighter was shot out of it on a catapult, and one after the other was shot down before it could escape.

Several cannons on the main portion of the ship opened up on him, their massed fire gradually homing in on his Arwing. He could only swerve around them for so long…

"Fox!" Peppy piped up as if out of nowhere, "Evade! Evade!"

He shut his eyes and smashed the yoke all the way to the left.

His Arwing did a barrel roll right into the hail of laser fire, a feat which by all rights should have gotten him killed, but the heavy shielding on the wings ended up deflecting each and every shot with minimal drain on the power systems.

Fox righted himself, panting after just narrowly avoiding a rather abrupt end to his career. He quickly shook the anxiety from his head and put the batteries on the ship into his sights, opening fire at his earliest convenience.

Each laser battery on the carrier was blown right out of its bearings, apparently disarming the enemy vessel for the time being. However, the missile pods opened up again and unleashed a second salvo. Fox hit the dual setting and managed to vape several of the rockets before they could break off and hunt down a member of his squadron.

After evading and shooting the missiles, thus free from pursuit, the other three fighters of the squadron zeroed in on the carrier with all guns blazing, pumping enough energy into its hull to power the ship itself. Deck plates went flying as the lasers burned into the hull, starting small fires which trailed the smoke back into Fox's ship. But still, even after all of this, the carrier was still aloft; it was just too damned big to be shot apart.

There was only one other option, and Fox was eager to take it.

The carrier's launch bays opened up again, another squadron of Venomian fighters launching out from it. Most of them managed to escape, mainly because Fox wasn't worrying about them. His eyes were set on the launch bay itself.

The doors began to close after the last fighter had made it through. He flipped open the safety cap on the top of his yoke and mashed down the button below with his thumb.

A mechanical clunk could be heard as the bay door directly above the main laser flew open and hurled a spherical object out from inside, sending it directly through the open hangar doors. It was a smart bomb, and what better way to blow something up than with a bomb from the inside.

In a split second the entirety of the hangar vanished in a fiery mist and hail of debris. The carrier pitched to the side as the weight, as well as one of the engines, was suddenly discarded from the air frame.

"Who the hell are you guys?!" the unidentified voice yelled over the squadron channel.

Fox squinted as the ship burst into flames before him.

"_We're Starfox_."

"You'll never defeat Andro-!"

The voice couldn't finish its sentence before the entire carrier doubled over into the ocean and exploded just beneath its surface. Fox juked to the right, avoiding the blast and gout of water, before pulling up where the rest of his squadron formed up on his wing.

Fox exhaled as his ship ascended into the sky, far away from the chaos that was Corneria below.

"We're heading out," he radioed his team, "All aircraft, report."

"Well that was too close," Slippy said, "But I'm ok."

"Everything's A-Ok over here, Fox," Peppy radioed.

"I'm _fine_," Falco blurted out, obviously annoyed at not having destroyed the target himself.

Fox sighed. His first taste of actual combat… And he'd almost lost two team members and gotten himself shot to pieces. Plus, Corneria was still being pounded into dust, and Andross was rampaging about the system unabated.

Unfortunately it was much too soon to take a break.

* * *

"Initiate landing sequence, ROB," Fox said to the ship's avatar.

"AFFIRMATIVE, LANDING SEQUENCE INITIATED. WELCOME HOME."

The Arwings came in from the rear of the cruiser in single file, heading straight for the landing bay of the Great Fox.

It was a fairly large ship, at 890 standard meters long from tip to stern. The Great Fox was a refitted Dreadnaught-class Space Destroyer which was essentially a hull built around two massive T&B H-9 hyper laser cannons which were capable of tearing through just about any starship hull or shield currently in service.

The Great Fox was custom designed my James McCloud, Fox's dad, way back when the squadron was first assembled. Ironically it was ordered from the same company that produced the Arwings, Arspace Dynamics.

The basic design changes included the addition of a rapid landing/launching system for fighter craft as well as an extended strut for the command bridge and sensor outfit. A third engine was installed at the back, and five massive stabilizer fins allowed the ship to fly within a planet's atmosphere. The third, elongated engine and the extended bridge gave the ship an appearance slightly resembling that of a fox, but it turned out to be nearly unnoticeable, so the squadron insignia of a fox with wings was added to the uppermost stabilizer fin on both sides.

But the ship was far from perfect. The two hyper lasers, while extremely effective against larger targets, couldn't track down smaller enemy interceptors, and to make matters worse, the hyper lasers were the only weapons the ship had, meaning that it was almost defenseless against attacks from other directions. The original ship was designed around the premise of being a long range support craft; the only significant change they made was adding some fighter support.

Naturally, this refit wasn't cheap; not even the fact that they were rehauling an old, busted up cruiser managed to circumvent the extreme cost. Fox's father, in turn, had established a low interest extended loan to cover it… The interest was so low that the loan would last for eighty years.

James had died more than a year ago, and since Fox was the only remaining family member he had to take the loan upon himself. It wasn't easy to pay it off doing small odd jobs. That much was for sure.

He eased the throttle down as his ship got closer. When he reached the 30 meter mark, he cut the ion engines and guided the Arwing inside, the ship being caught by a dampening field half way down the tunnel. A connector latched on to the bottom of his ship and pulled it down as the floor gave way to the rest of the hangar. There, the ship was transferred over to its launching rack and was lowered to the very bottom.

After all four Arwings had arrived, the bay doors sealed shut and a hiss could be heard as oxygen returned to the chamber. Fox powered down the G-Diffuser before unstrapping himself and removing the helmet from his head. He punched the canopy release and the glass shield flew up with the distinctive 'whoosh' provided by the hydraulic systems.

Fox slid down from the fuselage to the deck below; he didn't need the ladder to dismount. Helmet snug under his arm, he started walking off towards a raccoon who was leaning against the wall next to the door which led out of the hangar.

"Chuck, Falco's G-Diffuser went nuts down there," he said in a brisk, serious tone, "Make sure it doesn't happen again. We can't afford to look down from the fight."

"Riiight…" Chuck responded, "You know those things are a little off. It's not like I can stop that…"

"Anything you can do that'd help, do it," Fox interrupted him, "I don't feel like losing my entire squadron because of this."

He stormed off through the door, not even bothering to check up with the rest of his squad mates. Falco was next to make it to the doorway.

"Give you the standard treatment, huh?" he asked the technician.

"Yep, he's not in the best of moods apparently."

"Don't worry, I'll straighten him out…" Falco muttered while clenching his fists.

"Cut it out, Falco," Peppy said as he walked by, "He's pretty freaked out right now. It all comes with the job."

"Leaders aren't supposed to _get_ freaked out," the bird rebuked. Peppy just shook his head and kept walking by with Slippy in tow.

* * *

The minute the door to his room slid open, he put the helmet on his dresser and fell onto his bed, face first. Fox was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

_What the hell am I supposed to do now?_ he thought. _That went worse than I thought… And it was only our first mission…_

Fox groaned as he flipped around to lie on his back.

_It was tougher than I thought… Too tough. These aren't pirates we're dealing with… I almost lost everybody back there… Hell, I'm amazed I survived myself…_

He stared at the rather bare ceiling. Two structural support beams jutted out overhead, along with a single rectangular light fixture that sat right between them. This room was actually the one his father used when he was still alive. That time seemed so distant now… Three years seemed like ten.

It was ironic that he chose this room to stay in. The Great Fox used to have a much larger crew, so there was plenty of space to go around. Much of that space was turned into nothing but cargo holds, filled to the brim with spare parts, fuel, foodstuffs and the like. But even then there were still plenty of places to stay, yet he'd chosen this one.

The room was definitely bare, with nothing but a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand with a mirror right above it. The room itself was fairly large, thus the lack of furniture gave it a needlessly Spartan appearance.

Fox rolled off of his bed and got to his feet. Slowly he walked over to the dresser and pulled open the uppermost drawer. Inside was a single case holding a pair of glasses.

They were his dad's spare pair of aviator sunglasses. He always wore them when he flew, and sometimes he wore them when they weren't even necessary. Their near constant appearance caused them to be like his trademark; if anyone asked who Fox's dad was he'd point to him and say, "The guy with the glasses."

His dad had worn his good pair when he left on that fateful mission three years ago, leaving this solemn reminder behind.

_What would you do right about now, dad?_ Fox thought.

He shoved the drawer back inside and stepped out the door.

* * *

"Man, did you see those robot things that were tipping over buildings?" Falco said as he put his drink down, "They fucking tipped over that one famous commerce building! I saw it!"

"The one with the four spires on top of it?" Slippy piped up.

"Yeah, yeah that one. I swear, that place got torn to pieces…"

The door slid open and Fox entered the pilot's lounge with all eyes bearing down on him.

"Well, if it isn't our infamous leader," Falco said with acute sarcasm, "Sit down and celebrate, Mister Happy, we aren't dead yet."

Fox just shook his head as he leaned on the table with both hands.

"Ok, guys, here's the deal," he said in a solemn tone, "We just about made it out of there with our butts intact. Another stunt like that'll have us flying around in Swiss cheese. We can't afford to take another mission like that…"

"Of course we can, that's what we're here for," Falco interrupted, "We're gonna show the monkeys who's boss. Isn't that right, boys?" he said to the rest of the team. All he got from Peppy was a glare.

"Fox, take it easy," the rabbit said in an effort to diffuse the situation, "We went in unprepared, that's all. And who can blame us? Andross just showed his ugly mug out of nowhere, and Pepper and the rest of them freaked out a bit."

Fox just stood there, staring at the table while looking pensive.

"Just take a seat," Peppy said, "And we can talk over what happened." Reluctantly he agreed.

"So what'd we learn today?" Peppy asked everyone at the table.

"G-Diffusers suck?" Falco blurted out.

"No. Look, we were losing it back there. We were losing formation. If we kept it together, without breaking up, we wouldn't have been caught separately and we could have covered each other's tails. We need to improve on that." He looked over at Fox who still stared at the table with a blank expression. "Isn't that right, Fox?"

"Yeah…" he replied quietly, meanwhile wondering why the hell Peppy wasn't the squadron leader at this point.

"But what now?" Slippy said as if expecting a definite answer that wouldn't come.

"We keep fighting," Fox muttered which elicited the stares of everyone else. "What else can we do? We've got to stop that bastard Andross in his tracks. If we don't, we can kiss Corneria and just about everything else goodbye."

"Not to be the pessimist, Fox, but how do you suppose we do that?" Falco questioned accusingly. But Fox wouldn't take the bait.

"We should consult General Pepper," he said, looking up from the table now. "It might not be like what we're used to, following orders and all, but it'd give us a clearly defined purpose, and better yet we'd know where to strike. It's better than flying blind." The rest of the group nodded in agreement, even Falco after a second or two.

"Ok, we should start figuring what we're up against," Fox said, his voice gaining an authoritative tone, "First of all, those fighters we were fragging left and right didn't even have any shielding on them…"

"Fox, I recognized most of 'em," Peppy said as he went over the enemies he'd seen in his mind, "They're vintage stuff, the old kinds of gear that Andross used to be throwing at us way back when."

"So that means he'll probably have more advanced forces further back in the line, huh?" Fox asked.

"Probably," the rabbit replied, crossing his arms.

"Makes no difference to me," Falco said, "I'd rather earn my kills fair and square."

Fox shot him a piercing look for but a second before turning and saying, "Hey Slip, how'd you analyze that carrier back there?"

"Oh, it was nothing," Slippy said, nearly hopping up in excitement as he was brought back into the conversation, "I just rigged my Arwing's radar through the Great Fox's sensors. They're pretty powerful you know."

"Good thinking, you'll be our analyst from now on," Fox said, "I want you to thoroughly scan every ship we come across. Then we'll take that info and study it to see how we can blow them up. Ok?"

"Yeah sure," Slippy responded with a grin.

"Right, now then," Fox continued, "Peppy, go up to the bridge and get in contact with General Pepper. Get the heads-up and the go-to information from him…"

"Isn't that the squad leader's job?" Peppy asked with a slight grin forming on his face. Fox stared right into his eyes. He knew what the rabbit was doing… and it was working.

He kept from smiling himself.

"Yeah," he said, "But first I need a drink…"

* * *

The image of the old war hound appeared on the main screen, his eyes proclaiming worry itself and his voice quick and urgent.

"Good, just the man I wanted to see," General Pepper said, his voice booming over the ship's speakers. "Fox, we need your help…"

Fox just shook his head, saying, "No, General, we're going to help you guys out no matter what." At this Pepper's voice cut out, having nothing else to say, so Fox decided to continue. "We're willing to receive orders from you, General. We figure you know more about the situation than we do, so you can tell us where to go and what to vape."

"Are… Are you trying to spark a contract?" the General asked in confusion.

Fox just grinned. "Yeah, a contract."

"Well… You'd provide military service in turn for what?"

"I dunno," Fox replied, "Maybe a cash reward?"

"Is that all you can think about?" the General replied in an annoyed tone.

"Sure, why not?" Fox continued, "We can set it up based on how many ships and tanks we destroy. It's all simple, really…"

General Pepper closed his eyes and shook his head at the same time while practically yelling, "Yes, of course, fine! Whatever it takes…"

"So it's settled then?" Fox asked, the grin on his face getting bigger with each passing moment.

"_Yes!_" the General responded in relief.

"Good, then what are our orders… Sir?" Fox immediately replied, throwing a professional tone onto the "sir" that he added to his sentence.

"Well, the situation on the surface looks grim, but the bulk of their forces there have been subdued. The forces in orbit are another matter entirely…"

"So you want us to go in there and help your flyboys out?" Fox asked.

"Essentially… Yes," the General replied.

"Alright then, send us the information on some targets of interest and we'll have them destroyed in no time. Fox out."

He flicked the switch and the massive picture of the General blinked out of existence. Turning, he nodded at ROB, the robot hardwired into the computer, affirming that they were receiving the requested combat information. When he'd made a complete about face, he spotted Peppy leaning between the doorway.

"_You scoundrel_," he said with a wry grin.


	4. Chapter 3

**_3_**

In two hours the team had already geared back up for another assault. This time they'd be fighting in space within the chaos that was the two fleets beating the tar out of each other.

But at least they were prepared.

Telemetry and logistical data provided by General Pepper had given them the near exact locations of every capital ship in the quarrel that raged above Corneria. They weren't exactly uplifting figures, but at least it gave them a target.

Built right over Andross' base world, Venom, the Venomian fleet was comprised of an armada of highly advanced warships. Some of their types were already outdated, as with some of the fighters Starfox seen flying over the surface, but they were a sizeable force nonetheless, and they were beating the Cornerians into slag.

It turned out that the carrier they had successfully destroyed down on the surface was one of the planet-bound warships, so the carriers up in space varied greatly in design, most notably size. Acting as the main battlewagon, the Grazan-class, as it was called, served the dual function of launching offensive aircraft and missiles as well as swapping batteries with their Cornerian counterparts, the Galleon-class.

Both had predominately long, rectangular hulls for the launch bays, the ones on the Grazan bearing resemblance to a double barreled shotgun. Its bridge was relegated to the back corner of the craft, a tiny outcrop which, although in the open, was a heavily shielded target. Meanwhile the Galleon-class had two bays slung under a larger top section which held the bridge and laser batteries. Despite their seemingly equal roles, the Grazan class proved to be slightly more maneuverable. And if maneuverability failed it, there were always several hundred more where that ship came from.

As for smaller support craft, the Venomian fleet also had an advantage. It had a large compliment of Dorisby-class frigates which dated back to the first war with Andross. With only two heavy laser batteries on top of a long, slender hull, it didn't seem to be much of a threat. However, its front was decorated with Andross' ugly mug which unfortunately wasn't just for decoration; the Dorisby was also used as a literal ram to bludgeon into larger ships. This alone caused heavy casualties.

The Venomians also had a small number of what appeared to be a more advanced frigate which had not yet reached full fledged production. The Harlock-class as it was called was a much smaller ship, but it packed a much heavier punch. It had in upwards of ten heavy laser batteries as well as several launch tubes for anti-aircraft missiles, and to make matters worse its engine proved to be of superb design. Nevertheless, all of the compact technology took the role of defensive equipment; its shields had less than perfect strength and the integrity of its hull was abysmal.

And yet, even with these drawbacks, the Cornerians _still_ suffered a disadvantage. Their frigate, the Forerunner-class, had almost as poor armament as the Dorisby-class and even less speed, making it a sitting duck. It was amazing that the Cornerians had won their first war with Andross at all.

* * *

Fox had picked several ships whose destruction would cause the enemy line to break apart. Most of them were Grazan-class, as was the majority of the Venomian fleet. This proved to be quite a dilemma since their shielding could withstand the lasers of their Arwings. But Fox figured they could use the same tactic that he'd used back on Corneria on the smaller carrier: wait for them to launch fighters or missiles, at which point the bays will open, and lob in some smart bombs. One alone couldn't significantly damage a Grazan, but in conjunction, bombs from the entire squadron could.

"Ok, check your G-Diffuser systems," he said over the squadron channel.

"Yeah, yeah…" Falco responded, "I'm fine this time."

"Good," Fox said, "Remember the plan. Stick together and stay on my wing. If things get too dicey then break up and we'll regroup back at the Great Fox. Speaking of which, ROB, you ready to give us some heavy support?"

"AFFIRMATIVE," the robot replied, "THE GREAT FOX IS PREPARED FOR COVER FIRE." If there was anything else the Great Fox was good for, it was blasting away enemy ships from long range with its two massive hyper lasers.

"Alright then, boys," Fox radioed, "Let's give 'em hell." And with that he gunned the engines of his Arwing which launched off towards the sparkling war zone before them.

* * *

"Oh _shit!_ Watch that frigate!" Falco yelled into his headset as a Forerunner-class without power came barreling towards them. The group broke up and to the right, dodging the dead ship's final voyage.

This was incredible. Fox couldn't believe the scope of the fight once he'd seen it with his own eyes. There was nothing but ships and debris wherever he looked, and he couldn't look long before something else would start shooting at him.

Starfox was in the dead center of one of the grisliest slug-fests the Lylat System had ever seen. It was practically a free for all at this point. Communication between fighter squadrons and even between capital ships was practically nonexistent, and commanders and pilots alike were just trying not to run into that next laser bolt that whizzed by.

Fox brought the squadron around a dead hulk of a Galleon-class where they ran across a lone Dorisby seeking refuge behind the larger ship's carcass. It was their first target, and they intended to make best on their objectives.

He didn't even need to tell them to open fire; they all did simultaneously on their own. Using dual fire, all four Arwings started to pump sheer energy into the Dorisby's shields which fell at the drop of a hat. Immediately its hull started to burn away as the lasers continued their unabated barrage, slicing through deck plating and destroying the bulkheads below.

Its lasers couldn't even re-aim in defense of the ship before the attacking Arwings detonated the primary power reserve, engulfing the entire frigate in a shaft of fire which burned down the hull like a cigar lit from the inside out.

Fox yanked back on the stick and pulled away from the terrible explosion which followed. A quick glance to the left and right let him know that his team was still in one piece.

"Alright! One down, five to go!" he said into his headset.

They veered to the left, staring right down at the blue orb which was Corneria. A Grazan and Galleon eclipsed some of the world, pounding each other to dust, laser after laser, and salvo after salvo.

"Ok, guys, forget the plan on this one," Fox radioed, "Its shields are probably down… Right, Slip?"

"Roger that, Fox, that ship is going down," the frog responded giddily.

Nodding in affirmation, not that anyone could see it, Fox laid the tiny bridge of the Grazan-class right between his crosshairs and started mashing down on the trigger. After the first few shots, the rest of the squadron followed suit, and before long the tiny bridge was being bombarded by a hail of laser bolts. What little shields were left gave way, and the bridge now existed as a smoldering lump.

Without control, the Grazan began to list towards the planet, its gunners still firing at the besieged Galleon. The Venomian ship continued to list until the nose started to lean down towards Corneria, a sure sign that it was going to plummet into the atmosphere.

Immediately the guns stopped, and a few minutes later the escape pods began flying in all directions. The Galleon-class, battered and bruised, managed to limp away before the Grazan crashed into it. Although Fox couldn't see it happen, he was sure that the carrier drifted down into the atmosphere and burned up.

In fact he couldn't see it happen because right now he was leading his squadron in evasive maneuvers, dodging a salvo of anti-aircraft missiles which seemed to be targeted right at them and only them among the swarm of other Cornerian units. Juking to the left and then surging down, he managed to evade the first few missiles which crashed into a nearby Forerunner. Still flying in formation, Starfox started to zigzag around friendly and enemy ships alike in a dizzying pattern of evasion until their pursuers had either run out of fuel or crashed into an unintended target.

"That was too close!" Slippy radioed.

"Yeah, we'd better get moving before somebody else wants to fire off an entire battery at us, Fox!" Falco said, apparently more concerned about their welfare than the prospect of getting credit for more kills, a welcome change.

"Roger, we'll frag this last Grazan and pull out. It should be enough for the fleet."

He brought them around in a turning arc which got them head to head with an enemy carrier. It was about two miles in front of them, two miles full of nothing but fighters and lasers.

"Fox, it's opening up!" Peppy said enthusiastically, "This is it!"

"Right," Fox responded, "Everyone keep formation and get ready to launch bombs."

The Arwings closed on the Grazan as it opened up to discharge another salvo of missiles into the fray. Soon they were right in front of it, only some 100 meters away.

"Ok, guys," Fox radioed, "Aim and…"

At that moment a Venomian fighter slammed into the nose of his Arwing from the topside. The shields unleashed a hail of electric tendrils and sparks as the enemy fighter disintegrated on it like a frying pan. The sheer force pushed Fox's Arwing straight down towards a destroyed Dorisby-class that smoldered below.

His arms flung up in defense of his face only to quickly grasp the yoke again and hit the braking thrusters as the battered hull encompassed his entire canopy. With all his strength he pulled back on the yoke, skimming the ship carcass below with his shields which, at this point, were nearly non-existent.

"Fox! Are you…" Peppy quickly radioed in worry.

There was no time to waste. They had to destroy the target.

"_Fire!_" he yelled into his headset.

The three remaining Arwings unleashed their payloads, firing two bombs each right into the starboard launch bay of the Grazan. The explosion they yielded ate through the ship from the inside like termites would eat through a tree. Within seconds its core went critical, and everything with 100 meters was hard pressed to escape the blast.

This included Fox who had jumped out of the oven and into the frying pan. Just as quickly as he'd pulled up, he was pushing down to evade the explosion, the light from which turned his entire canopy white and blinded him. Expecting to be dead, he opened one of his eyes to find himself spiraling down towards Corneria, his teeth still clenched.

Sighing in relief, he pulled back up 180 degrees and saw the bulk of the firefight from below. It was quite the mess, with pieces of innumerable starships flying in all different directions, only to smash into the innumerable starships which were still in one piece.

"Fox, are you ok?" Peppy radioed, his location unknown to the pilot who was now lost in the fray.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Peppy," Fox replied, "Take the squadron out of here before…"

"Hell no!" Falco blurted out, "We didn't come this far to turn tail! Let's keep fighting, there's another cruiser that..."

"Are you insane?" Slippy piped up.

"Shut up, froggy, nobody asked you…"

"Hey, hey! Cool it!" Fox hollered into his headset. "Start making your way out of this scrap and kill everything you can along the way. That's an order!"

It took a few tense seconds before Falco muttered "whatever" over the radio.

It wasn't incredible anymore. Now it was just insane. Fox was dodging lasers and kamikaze fighters only to have his team mates fighting while out of reach at the same time.

At least his instincts as a pilot were clogging his outlook on this. He was far too busy trying not to die to be worrying about them fighting. Then again, maybe he should have been more worried, being the leader, but when it came down to it he had better things to do at this moment in time.

Fox did a barrel roll to the right only to come on the tail of a Venomian fighter. The enemy pilot didn't seem to notice him, instead focusing his efforts on a Cornerian Mark II interceptor in front of him. And in front of the snub fighter was another Venomian fighter.

He took advantage of being at the top of this makeshift food chain; after spreading the first bandit across the stars, he leapfrogged over his ally and shot the next one to pieces. Luckily he wasn't using the same channel as that pilot; otherwise he'd be getting an earful right about now about stealing his kill credit.

Juking to the left, Fox started to fly towards where his radar reported the Great Fox to be. But it wasn't as if he'd escaped the firefight now. Ground Zero extended for miles and miles on end, and he'd have to fly right through it all to get home.

Hell, he had time.

Fox noticed a Forerunner dealing it out with a Harlock just above his flight path. The Cornerian vessel was coming apart. Flames licked from its blown out gun ports and its engines fizzled down to nothing. Meanwhile the Harlock-class was having a merry old time shooting its foe to tiny bits with all of its guns blazing.

He placed the Harlock's engines dead in his sights where he held down the trigger for the lasers to charge at the front. When the green ball of energy started to creep out from under the nose of his Arwing, he hit the trigger, releasing the power swell which quickly overpowered the Harlock's shields.

Its shields were already weak from the firefight, so they gave way with little effort. When the charged shot kept going, it burned through the light hull plating with ease, the main thruster getting a face-full of pure energy. Something inside of it exploded and the fire blew out from the back of the thruster. The force of this explosion sent the frigate into a dizzying cartwheel forwards. Fox could only grin at what the crew must have been thinking as the stars abruptly changed course in their eyes.

Sparks suddenly dashed across his canopy. He quickly looked up to see an enemy fighter attacking from above, just like the one from before, only this one had the common sense to fire instead of collide.

Fox, knowing that he could turn enough for this, yanked back on the stick while firing at will. His somersault briefly brought him face to face with the enemy, and by a stroke of luck one of his shots hit it square in the cockpit, shearing the ship in half in the blink of an eye. Fox kept turning until he'd resumed his original heading.

With no evident threat this second, Fox's mind started to drift away to the whereabouts of his team mates. Though space is cold and silent, the sound of his lasers firing off and the whine of his engine apparently blotted out what his comrades were saying over the radio. Still, this shouldn't have been enough, so he assumed that it was because he was too preoccupied with trying to survive.

But now that he was paying attention, he heard all kinds of things. His ears picked up Peppy shouting as if to his enemy, "I won't let you get away from me!" Meanwhile Falco was gloating about scratching another bandit, and Slippy was hollering that he got one.

And then their transmissions turned desperate. Phrases like "he's on me" and "incoming" flooded the squadron channel.

Fox wished he was there with them as he dodged incoming laser fire and obliterated another opponent before they collided.

* * *

Ten minutes seemed like thirty. Fifteen minutes seemed like an hour.

Fox had managed to break out of the scrap with his Arwing intact, only to arrive at the Great Fox and find that nobody else had escaped.

_Yet, hopefully_, he thought.

Needless to say he was getting worried. He wasn't picking their radio transmissions either, but that was probably because of the hole in the nose of his fighter.

As expected, sooner or later his shields gave out, and some foolish Cornerian jockey in over his head started spraying a group of enemy fighters at long range. Fox happened to be in the process of shooting them down from behind when his "ally" struck, managing to hit him once in the front during his wild barrage. Fox actually considered himself lucky: after all that it was friendly fire that managed to do some damage.

The hole was an unnerving sight, but according to the Arwing's computer it wouldn't be fatal. The sensors had narrowly missed destruction, allowing him to return to the Great Fox, but it seemed as though his communications gear wasn't in the best of shape.

Fox had cut the engines, free floating far away from the battlefield under one of the Great Fox's massive wings. At this point he could do nothing but wait and watch as his base ship occasionally opened fire on some Venomian vessel or another, its destruction too far away to be seen with the naked eye.

Since he'd cut his engines, there was barely any noise coming from his ship. The silence was deafening. He felt alone…

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a bright flash from an ion engine. A shade of blue indicated that it was powered by a G-Diffuser.

Sure enough, out from the black sheet of space materialized the rest of his squadron, alive thankfully. They slowed down and started coming for a pass, right next to Fox's drifting craft.

The first Arwing to arrive was Falco's. Unscathed, miraculously, it appeared. Fox figured he must have had an easy time blowing things up with his squad leader out of the picture.

Falco twisted his Arwing to the side so he could get a clear view at Fox's cockpit. The bird looked down at him and seemed as if he was yelling something. With nothing else to do, Fox simply tapped his headset with his finger and shrugged. Falco shook his head before muttering something and hitting the engine, soaring off and away to get in position for landing.

The next Arwing that came by sent a chill right up his spine the moment he laid eyes upon it. It looked as if it'd been chewed up, spit out, and then stepped on the damage was so severe. It didn't come as a surprise to find out it was Slippy's ship.

What _was_ surprising was that it was still flying.

And then came along Peppy, his wings nearly shot to pieces. Fox could only guess at the reason for this, but it probably involved rescuing Slippy's worthless butt while Falco cared less and shot something up. It looked bad, but there was still the silent reassurance he could count on Peppy for real backup when he needed it most.

Fox let out a sigh as he powered up the engines again. This mission went even worse than the first one. He felt like he was setting a trend.

* * *

Sliding down from the cockpit, Fox landed right in front of Chuck. His eyes stared at him, unblinking and in accusation, and his arms were crossed.

"Doesn't look like the G-Diffuser to me," he said in an annoyed tone.

"Ok, look," Fox said, wanting to avoid another confrontation as best as possible, "I'm sorry for getting uptight about it. I've just been a little… I dunno, _stressed out_ lately."

Chuck just looked at him, though his expression became less severe.

"Can you fix all this?" Fox said, motioning back towards the blackened line of fighters.

"Well," the raccoon said in a slow drawl, "That Slippy'd better take better care of that ship. It'll be a hell of a patch job. As for the rest, I'm sure I can handle it."

"Great, tell me when we're good to go again. There's still plenty more out there."

"Sure thing."

_Well that went well_, Fox mused as he stepped aside and made his way to the exit, _Could've been worse_…

* * *

"So, what, you couldn't just join up again?" Falco practically yelled into his face.

It got worse.

"I lost sight of you guys. Isn't my fault there must be a couple hundred squadrons operating out there," Fox said in his defense.

Falco was about to holler something else when he caught Peppy in the corner of his eye. The expression he bore was that kind that burned right into you, and could be interpreted as either "Speak for yourself" or simply "Shut up".

"You'll end up killing us all, I swear," Falco muttered as he stormed off.

Peppy walked up alongside Fox who just watched as his angry team mate practically kicked the door down to leave the pilot's lounge. Meanwhile Slippy had taken his name to heart and had already slipped away from the scene.

"Don't take it too hard, Fox," the old rabbit said, "He's just as stressed as you are. Can't help it, I guess."

"Yeah…" Fox replied, "But he's right. I shouldn't have lost track of the rest of you. I nearly got Slippy killed…"

"Hey, I'm always here to back you up," Peppy snapped, interrupting Fox's doleful statement while pointing a finger at him, "Don't go talking like that. We're a team. We're supposed to depend on each other."

Fox didn't reply. He just stared at the door Falco left through.

"You gonna be ok?" Peppy asked in concern.

"I better go talk to the General," Fox muttered, "We aren't going back out there any time soon."


	5. Chapter 4

**_4_**

He was floating in space… But was he even wearing a suit? He couldn't tell.

Below him was some planet he didn't recognize. It looked green and sickly, the image blotted out or blurred. He couldn't seem to focus on it long enough to tell what it was.

What was that in front of him? Something was moving. It was moving pretty damn fast, too. It had a glow about it, a blue glow coming from the engines. Was that an Arwing?

Streaks of red light started to smash down upon it. Something was shooting at it, but from where? He looked up but couldn't see anything, and the firing stopped, so he looked back down.

The ship was much closer now. It was an Arwing after all, and it was spinning out of control, smoking and sparking after being shot at and apparently hit. It was coming right for him.

But he couldn't move. He flailed his arms as if to swim, but to no avail.

And then the Arwing was upon him, or more like in him. Its wing had speared him in the chest. He could feel it inside, and strangely enough he could feel the ailerons on the wing twisting.

Both the force of the blow and the pain came next, like a delayed reaction. It sent him spinning in a backwards somersault, feeling both dizzy and faint at the same time.

Gritting his teeth, he looked down at the ship lodged in his chest. The cockpit was glazed over in a pure black sheen; he couldn't tell who was flying it.

Immediately he tried to yank it out. He grasped the two big, blue wing pylons and heaved, but it wouldn't budge. The pain increased exponentially. He tried harder, but nothing would work.

As if on cue the engines of the Arwing exploded to life, and the ship pressed into him. The pain hit him once again like a shockwave, so unbearable he couldn't help but scream…

* * *

Fox sprung up in his bed in a cold sweat, heart beating wildly and his breathing quick. It took a moment for him to settle down and regain his senses.

He couldn't sleep that night, or better yet it took him long enough to fall asleep only to have a nightmare. A quick glance at the clock told him it was 4:51 AM.

_Perfect, it was only thirty minutes long_, he thought.

Fox fell back down in his bed, letting his head hit the pillow which broke his fall. This night was unbearable. He'd been sitting in bed for at least five hours now, only to fall asleep, have a blistering nightmare, and then wake up to find that little time had passed. His first night on the job, and it was just as bad as the day before it.

He sat there, staring at the ceiling for lack of a better word. He was really staring past it, his mind ablaze with thoughts and ideas, all of them centering on this conflict the Lylat System had become embroiled in. And all of it was facilitated by one man, or more like ape.

Andross used to be one of Corneria's top scientists, so much in fact that he _was_ the top scientist. He'd produced inventions that nobody thought were possible within the bounds of reality.

And with these came inventions of incredible power, one of them having the capacity of destroying the entire Lylat System.

General Pepper, the old war hound who was still in service all of those years back, was given the job of slapping Andross with the old "cease and desist" order. But the scientist wouldn't be swayed by the petty logic of his inferiors. He continued to develop weapons and power supplies and just about everything militant he could come up with.

So it fell to Pepper to stop him with force, and that's exactly what he did… or tried to do anyway.

Andross had gained a following on the planet Venom, a harsh wandering world on the very brink of the Lylat System. He became the equivalent of a dictator and led "his people" in a "crusade" against the Cornerian Army.

The fight was bloody and brutal and amazingly short lived. Andross, while a genius, was downright inexperienced when it came to warfare, and he led his forces wrong until the day they were nearly wiped out and either surrendered or disbanded.

Following the Cornerian code of justice, Andross was to be put on trial, but he mysteriously disappeared before they could put him on the stand. Officials believed he'd committed suicide or something of the like, and seeing how Venom was ultimately devastated in the fight he couldn't have run there.

It looked now as if they were wrong. Fox could only imagine how foolish they felt as their courtroom was reduced to slag by bombers bearing Venomian markings. General Pepper must have been taking it pretty hard himself for not issuing a military follow-up on the planet. Even though they _did_ when they sent his dad to…

He deliberately avoided the subject in his head. After all these years he'd taught himself to deny it, as he would here. He continued on.

Fox's father actually worked under the Cornerian military with the old Starfox team during that fight which lasted about a month. They didn't do much, more or less striking at targets of opportunity and destroying supply convoys or ambushing lone cruisers. Starfox was primarily a mercenary squadron; it was what it did best. Plus the Cornerian Army managed to hold its own quite well.

And now here he was, the leader of a new Starfox squadron, fighting the same foe on completely different standards. Andross was back with a vengeance and was ready to terminate everyone and everything with extreme prejudice. And to make matters worse, the famous Cornerian Army paled in comparison to the opposing forces in this blitzkrieg attack on their homeworld.

Simple hit and run missions wouldn't do much now that Andross was stomping around the inner sanctum of the Lylat System nearly unabated.

Things weren't looking up according to General Pepper. Corneria, the fourth planet of the system, was under heavy fire, though the space battle seemed to be more of a stalemate than a checkmate. Meanwhile the forward bases on Katina, the second planet, were being reduced to ashes, but were apparently holding their own against all odds. And just to add insult to injury, the army outpost on Fortuna, a world past the asteroid belt which should have alerted Corneria of the attack, was subdued quickly and quietly. Army strategists could only scratch their heads and say "communications failure" while the Venomians plowed through the asteroid belt to reach their targets.

No, hit and run missions wouldn't do a damned thing at this point.

Fox had a lot of weight on his shoulders now. He'd leapt out of the military academy after his father was killed, going into one of the deepest depressions of his life. That was until Peppy, one of his dad's old comrades, suggested reforming the squadron. After all, they still had to pay off the Great Fox.

Now he was the leader of Starfox which was involved in the largest inter-planetary war ever. He had to make decisions which were bound to be dangerous for everyone, and he couldn't bear to have any of his team mates' blood on his hands.

But he had to. General Pepper needed him. Corneria needed him. His team needed him.

And Andross needed to be stopped.

He flipped over on his side, trying to get comfortable so he could sleep again. Hopefully he wouldn't get another nightmare.

* * *

The alarm brought him back to consciousness after being out of it for only several minutes. The digital clock blinked "7:00 AM" in red numbers while emitting an annoying series of beeps at the same time.

Fox brought his hand down on it, hoping he'd manage to hit the off button.

His eyes hurt. Probably due to the fact that he didn't even close them while he was still awake, it could have also been due to watching explosions the whole day before. In any case, he had to kick himself out of bed and get to work.

Stifling a yawn, he was about to get dressed when he realized that he'd gone to bed in his green jumpsuit, having only taken off the flight jacked beforehand. _Screw it_, he figured as he nabbed the jacket from his nightstand, _More important things to worry about than laundry right now._

Fox stepped out into the corridor. It seemed just as dark and empty as it always had, except for the methodic booming noise of the Great Fox's guns every minute and a half or so. He'd ordered ROB to keep firing at enemy ships, hopefully helping out the Cornerian fleet, even if only a little.

He bypassed the refresher station, knowing that Falco was probably in there, as was his own morning custom. Meanwhile Slippy was probably sound asleep and Peppy was out doing… something. He'd never known what that old rabbit did in the morning, being that he must have awaken hours before the rest of them. Fox figured that he must have been looking over the Arwings or maybe talking to Chuck or even ROB.

Speaking of ROB, he had to get to the bridge. General Pepper had requested his audience for an army-wide situation briefing that would start within the hour. But Fox just got out of bed, so it wasn't as if he could hop right into a boring tactical overview and make any good suggestions, let alone realize what was going on in the first place.

He found himself pouring coffee in the pilot lounge. He'd never gotten into a coffee routine in the morning, but now would probably be the best time to start; there was a war going on after all.

Fox regretted pouring it all the way to the bridge. It tasted absolutely horrible, and not even because coffee wasn't meant to taste good. It was more like some kind of sludge. The disgusting thought of reprocessed mechanical grease fluttered across his mind.

He stepped into the bridge with a wince on his face. Luckily ROB wasn't looking behind to see it.

"ROB, when's that briefing?" Fox said as he stepped up to the viewport.

"T MINUS TWENTY ONE MINUTES," the robot replied in its steady, monotone voice.

Fox nodded as he stared out at Corneria. The blue world had seemed to have lost some of its luster; the fact that large areas of it were practically rendered black didn't help the scene at all. A few sporadic flashes were still visible over the planet's atmosphere, some of them caused by the yellow bolts that lanced out from the ship he was standing in. Still, the firefight from the day before was all but diffused.

Most of the Venomian fleet pulled back in large portions after a squadron of Galleon-class ships, aided by General Pepper's flagship, the _C.S.C Contender_, broke through the majority of the fighting and attacked to the rear of the bulk of Venomian forces. They wiped out dozens of capital ships with minimal losses while at the same time eliminating carrier bases for numerous fighter squadrons. In effect this broke the enemy's back, and the Cornerian fleet pushed forward, steadily gaining an advantage over the Venomians. They hadn't won the war, of course, but they'd halted the siege on Corneria.

The flashes still appearing over the planet were the death throes of the last Venomian ships to leave the sector. They were covering the fleet's rear, buying them time to escape while basically sacrificing themselves in the process.

Time suddenly seemed to fly as he stared upon the world. ROB interrupted his pensive gaze with a warning that the meeting would begin in five minutes.

"Alright, ROB, get ready to patch us through," Fox said before taking another sip of the coffee. Another wince graced his face as it slithered down his throat, and he looked at the cup in exasperation.

Well, it got him awake alright, but not in the way it was supposed to.

* * *

"Members of the Cornerian Star Corps, we are facing desperate times," the old hound said, his voice booming over the speakers and his eyes looking upon the faceless crowd of the camera before him.

"Though we have won the battle at hand, it seems, there is still much work to be done. Katina is still under attack, and the Venomian fleet has arranged itself around Sector Y to halt our relief efforts. Fortuna has fallen, and we believe that the armies of Andross have established a base on Aquas. These are desperate times indeed…"

Fox took in those words for a moment. He knew Katina was still being shelled left and right, along with the tragedy that was Fortuna, but now Sector Y and Aquas came into play.

Sector Y was just the denomination for an area of space within the orbits of the four innermost planets of the Lylat System. What made it unique was a massive nebula with a yellowish-green tint to it. It was caused by the enormous discharges of plasma and nuclear reactors during the first war with Andross. Back then, the massive fleet engagements the likes of which they'd witnessed over Corneria took place farther out in deep space.

Due to the nature of the nebula, the area was downright impassible. The ionic and radioactive discharges from that engagement wrought havoc on still functioning ships attempting to pass through. To make matters worse, most of the debris from the fight was trapped in the immediate area, meaning that if you happened to blunder through, you'd either get impaled or fried. You couldn't choose which, and both would be bound to happen sometime.

The position of Sector Y was almost always constant, thanks in part to the gravitational pull of Aquas and Katina because it was in between their respective orbits. At this time of year, it almost formed a direct barrier between Corneria and Katina, working perfectly to the enemy's advantage.

Now came Aquas. It was the third planet of the Lylat System, its surface completely covered in water. Colonization attempts were never truly made on the planet, so it ended up being quarantined for the "safety of the natural aquatic life there". It looked as if Andross decided he'd stop on by and set up camp, and the Cornerian army couldn't afford to have the enemy on their doorstep like that.

"Before we can establish a course of action, we must know exactly what we are dealing with," Pepper continued. "Though a large part of the enemy forces appear to be using old, outdated equipment, there are signs of new, more powerful weapons of war that may or may not have capabilities surpassing our own. The most notable of these are the capital ships they are using."

Pepper's image slid to the left and a rotating, three dimensional image of the Grazan-class appeared in his former place. After a long, practically unnecessary rant on this ship's specs by some "respected army intelligence officer", the Dorisby-class appeared. And then the Harlock. And so on and so forth.

This wasn't what Fox had in mind when it came to a briefing like this. There were no questions to be asked. It was just a force-fed slideshow of technical data that he didn't really care about…

Except for the enemy fighters of course. Besides for the old stuff, their primary fighting unit was designated "Invader I". Its tiny crew compartment was wedged between two large pylons on the sides which held heavy laser cannons. It had little armor, no shielding, and wasn't very fast on its feet, but it did pack a punch, which was just about the only thing it had going for it.

There was also the "Invader II" which didn't seem to bear any resemblance to its inferior relative. This was probably due to the lack of a proper name for it, so the "respected intelligence officers" just slapped a label onto all the fighters and gave them numbers.

In any case, the Invader II was more like an interceptor, meaning it was much deadlier in a dogfight. The flattened out, triangular body along with two stubby wings with pylons somewhat resembled the Arwing, but any resemblance stopped there. They were painted jet black and had four separate lasers on the nose of the craft. It lacked shielding as well, but had somewhat heavier armor. Intelligence also suggested that these lasers were of the weaker variety, but a pilot always trusted his intuition and personal experience when it came to the enemy's gear.

Hell, if the lasers weren't powerful, then the engines sure were. Fox recognized the engine layout from when that enemy ship smashed into his Arwing during the battle the day before. No wonder he didn't see it coming: the things were incredibly fast.

Not faster than the Arwing if this superfluous data was correct, but he'd find out for himself.

Both Invader craft were capable of flying in space or within an atmosphere, in simpler terms meaning that Fox would see a whole lot of them. The Invader Is he'd been shooting out of the skies weren't a problem, in small numbers of course, but the Invader IIs would be more of a challenge. _Falco must love those_, he mused.

The briefing spontaneously jumped from enemy equipment to tactics. Fox's ears perked up at the words; he absolutely needed to know how the enemy flew against him.

According to the intelligence officers, the Invader I squadrons typically flew in a three-fighter V formation. They seemed to mass together at will, and a squadron could be as big as eighteen ships. It seemed to Fox like they were made in bulk, hoping to simply outnumber their foes. But when it came to a couple of jockeys in Arwings, they made for a great turkey shoot.

Meanwhile, the Invader IIs had a more strategic flight manifest. They'd form into pairs and link up with other pairs if it ever suited their best interests. This paired system meant that they could break off into powerful, individual flights, easily capable of knocking out a group of enemy fighters one by one. Each squadron was composed of the usual twelve ships, though they were rarely seen flying in complete formation.

This would present a problem. Alone, Arwings were highly proficient at their job of elimination, but they also became lone targets. Despite having the best engines and guns in the Lylat System, they could still be jumped like any other ship, and the pilots of the Invader IIs seemed to excel at this tactic.

_Slippy's gonna have a hell of a time_, Fox thought with derision.

Fleet tactics came next, as boring as the profiling of the fleets themselves. Still, he bothered to wade through some of it and catch a few details. For one, the seemingly universal Venomian squadron consisted of three Grazan-class ships straddled on the sides by two Dorisby or Harlock-class frigates. The frigates, especially Dorisby-class, were essentially sitting ducks, but were covered by the big guns of the Grazans. In turn, the Grazans were mainly protected by the fighter escort they brought along. So when it came right down to it, there was a food chain that could be stepped up on one by one to eventually wipe the whole squadron out.

Luckily, the first link was the fighters which Starfox was eager to vape.

Up next, and thankfully last, came the revised compositions for the Cornerian fleet. As General Pepper started spouting all kinds of nonsense, Fox's mind drifted from the screen to the battered fleet hovering around outside. He began to wonder how they'd possibly gear up for another assault when the name "Starfox" was mentioned and his attention snapped back into place.

"The mercenary unit _Starfox_ will be aiding us in this campaign," Pepper said, most likely at the groans of captains and admirals everywhere. "Their carrier ship, the Great Fox, will be attached to the Twenty-third Artillery squadron due to its armament."

_Artillery squadron, huh?_ Fox thought, _That means it'll be prancing around the other unmodified Dreadnaught-class destroyers in the fleet. Should be quite a show…_

"Its fighter compliment will be attached to the Two-Hundred and First Interceptor Squadron…"

_Wait, what?_ he thought, putting down his cup of sludge on a control panel and leaning over it. _Our ship will be attached to a rear-line unit and we'll be attached to a front line unit? _Even if he wasn't one for fancy fleet talk, he recognized a logistical nightmare if he ever saw one.

With some motivational closing statements, General Pepper brought the briefing to an abrupt close. Fox grabbed his coffee and turned to leave the bridge when ROB said, "SIR, SHOULD I MODIFY OUR COURSE?"

Fox just nodded as he stepped outside and headed towards the pilot lounge where they'd be waiting. Somehow he'd have to explain all of this to his team… In the _morning_.


	6. Chapter 5

**_5_**

"I don't like it, Fox," Falco said with a menacing glare, "I don't like it at all."

"Far be it for me not to like it either, but those are our orders," Fox replied.

"Forget orders," Falco shouted, "Why don't we just go out there on our own and kill the bastards? Is it really that hard to fly out there by ourselves?"

"Actually," Peppy stepped in, "It is. You don't go flying against an entire enemy fleet with four little Arwings, you know." Falco just snorted and looked away.

"In any case," Fox continued, "We'll end up attaching ourselves to their squadron, and that means we'll be working on their schedule." The group got across the effect of a moan without even doing so. "I know, I know, we'll be flipping our hours around, but it'd be better if we got used to flying with them. According their commander, Captain Kadel, they go out on training flights every other day while not in combat."

Fox didn't feel so good about this; even Peppy was looking at him with a mix of confusion and detriment.

"We'll need to know who's who by then… We'll probably be given flight designations too…"

"I _hate_ formality," Falco piped up, getting back into the conversation. "There's no point in spouting numbers into your radio while you're being shot at from all directions."

"I know what you mean, Falco. After all, I was in the academy for some time," Fox said.

"Hell, I can see why you left it," the bird muttered, looking away again.

"Lucky for us," Fox said as he put down the empty cup of processed sludge on the table, "Their next refresher run is tomorrow. We have some time to adjust at least…"

His voice trailed off as he remembered what he had planned. He looked over at Slippy who immediately looked right back, as if expecting an off the cuff order. "Slippy, how good are you with rigging that simulator?" Fox said, suppressing a grin.

Slippy let his shine for all to see.

* * *

"Man, this is too easy, Slip," Falco said over the short range radio, "Bring out those interceptors already!"

Fox smiled to himself inside the cockpit of the flight simulator. Slippy might not have been an A+ pilot, but he sure did know his stuff when it came to just about anything technological. Using data ROB had recorded during the lengthy briefing, along with the in-fight sensor data he'd picked up during combat, Slippy programmed all of the enemy ships seen so far into their flight simulator aboard the Great Fox.

Of course they'd used this simulator countless times before during peacetime. The same kind as they used in the academy, it was the next best thing to hunting down pirates or bounty hunters, and infinitely better than hauling cargo which the team was sometimes reduced to.

Now, with the enemy they'd be facing included in it, the simulator became an invaluable tool.

The team had been spraying digital mockups of Invader Is for more than fifteen minutes. It wasn't even that interesting; the enemy craft gave Starfox the easiest job they'd ever seen…

Until they massed into a large six-fighter flight and targeted one Arwing at a time. But that would be hard for the enemy pilots to coordinate together, meaning that it wasn't very likely they'd see this tactic very often if at all.

The smart bombs that the Arwings fired worked extremely well against these ships. Inside each bomb was a computer which used an IFF system to detect where enemies and allies were, and it would explode accordingly. Long tendrils of explosive energy would be directed out at only the ships designated as hostiles, making it a very useful weapon in a tight dogfight. Of course, the IFF system could be turned off completely, turning it into a normal albeit powerful explosive.

Smart bombs were in painfully short supply, so the Starfox team made a concerted effort to limit their use.

"Ok," Slippy said as he mashed buttons on a portable computer he'd brought into the simulator with him, "I'm spawning a squadron of Invader IIs, heads up!"

The black, angular craft appeared out of thin air, their exhaust brightening up the scene almost immediately. The squadron appeared high and dry, about two kilometers above and in front of their opposing Arwings. Over a bleak, flat landscape, the stage was set for their battle.

Fox had the team regroup into a diamond formation before going head to head with the fake Venomian units.

"Let's see what they've got," he said over the radio. "Eyes sharp for anything they might try to pull on us."

They pulled it already. The whole squadron of twelve fighters broke off into six pairs, three pulling up and three peeling down. Eventually they leveled out, forming a wall of resistance rather than just a line.

_Well that's an interesting tactic_, Fox thought, _Let's see how they cope with our lasers. _

"Guys, gear up, we're going through the middle," he said.

"You know," Falco responded, "If this were a real fight I'd have called you crazy and broken off already."

Fox was taken aback. That didn't sound like something Falco would say.

"… Really?" he replied in a muted voice.

"Pfft, nah," the bird responded as his Arwing shot forward.

"Damnit, Falco, get back here!" Fox yelled after his comrade.

"Through the middle!" he shouted back.

Falco put on quite the show. Being out in the middle of nowhere, faced with twelve fighters bristling with guns, he did some fancy evasions and firing sprees on his approach, but by the time he'd eliminated five of the Invader IIs his shields had collapsed and his simulated Arwing was being reduced to simulated ashes.

Fox just shook his head as Falco's ship exploded in front of him. He switched over to a private frequency between only Peppy and himself before asking him, "Would it be bad if I said 'I wish that this was real'?"

"Heh, knock it off, Fox," the old hare responded, "We've got a job to do."

"Right," Fox said as he switched over to the squadron wide channel. "Everyone who's _still alive_, on me. We're going to break through to their right flank."

Fox broke to the right with the remaining two members of his squadron on both wings. By now the Invader IIs had closed to less than a kilometer and were opening up with a storm of red laser bursts. The Arwings slipped between this hail of fire, occasionally barrel-rolling to take advantage of its defensive advantages. The Venomian ships were unable to take the Starfox team down with brute force alone, so Fox decided that it was time to show them what real piloting was all about.

He stuck the fighter in the corner within his crosshairs before tapping the trigger, firing off a single shot. He watched as it scored a direct hit on the Invader's cockpit and made it explode into a sphere of simulated fire. Satisfied, he rolled to the left and put another fighter in his sights and let loose. But the first shot only caused it to bounce around off course, so he fired again, with the same effect.

_Damn, they really do have better armor_, Fox thought as he pulled up to avoid crashing into an enemy ship. _Time to use the bigger guns_. He flipped a switch on the simulator's console which activated the dual lasers that were supposed to be beneath the Arwing and pulled back on the yoke in an Immelman Turn.

With Peppy and Slippy managing to keep up, he brought his Arwing back around only to see the remaining six Invader IIs doing the same maneuver. He was about to tell his team mates to fire at will when the enemy line suddenly evaporated. They broke off in all directions, not heeding their paired doctrine.

"Slippy, what the hell is this?" Fox radioed in confusion.

"Dunno, Fox," the toad replied, "All of the tactics were supplied by info ROB got from the briefing. I'm not sure what they're up to."

Fox watched as one Invader darted up, another down, another slightly to the left, and another slowing down and falling back.

Before he could realize what was going on, the Invader that had gone down shot up right between the formation of Arwings. Slippy, in a panic, broke off to the left, and Peppy swerved back and forth in reaction to the ship's passing.

Now the Invader that had gone up came crashing down, right on top of Fox's Arwing. A chill went right up his spine as he recalled the battle over Corneria, recognizing that this was exactly what happened before.

With sparks and flashes darting across his canopy thanks to the assailed shields, Fox pushed forward on the yoke, putting his ship in a nose dive. Now, with the Invader behind him still firing, it was one of the worst possible positions he could be in.

That was until he pulled back on the stick which brought the sleek Arwing right back up just before it crashed into the ground, causing the less maneuverable Invader II to overshoot him into the rocky landscape.

_I hope Andross' pilots are always this gullible_, he thought grimly before catching sight of his two remaining wingmen above. He couldn't tell who was who from this range, but judging by who was being chased and who was in the process of chasing, it didn't take long to figure it out.

Pushing the throttle all the way to the console, Fox came in right below the Invader II that was tailing Slippy. A hail of dual lasers tore it to pieces… Simulated pieces, anyhow.

Slippy started saying, "Was that Fox?" when yet another Invader came in from above him. Fox only managed to take a brief glance at it past the other Arwing's engine exhaust before his own ship rocketed into the sky.

"Fox you'd better get back down here," Peppy radioed in a heightened voice, "This guy's surprisingly good!"

"Good?" he said into his headset, but there was no reply. Shaking his head, Fox did a flip to face the two other Arwings.

His flip got his eyes there in time to behold Slippy's fighter going up in a ball of flame. _What the hell?!_ Fox thought hurriedly as he leveled his ship and put the Invader II in his crosshairs. His shots were too late, and the enemy ship veered off to the left, placing Peppy in between them.

"Any ideas, Fox?" Peppy radioed as he opened fire on the rear of the juking aircraft.

"I wish I did, this guy is crazy!" Fox replied.

"But he's not a _guy_, Fox."

He squinted at the shape of the fighter as it gracefully dodged all of the lasers Peppy was throwing at it. _No, he's not a guy_, he thought with derision, _He's a _bird!

"Damnit, that's Falco!" he hollered into his headset. Somehow his wingman had switched craft and was now gunning for the enemy; nothing else could explain those maneuvers, or the stupid charge he'd done earlier.

"Take it easy!" Peppy hollered back, "We can take him!"

"Right, keep giving him something to think about. I'll chase the bastard down."

Fox left the throttle right where it was; no sense in breaking the handle to gain speed he would never get. Instead he hit the left foot pedal which acted like the rudder. With wings vertical, it put the Arwing into a lazy arcing dive. Fox pulled back up after he'd passed by Peppy and was directly beneath the enemy ship. Sticking the Invader II right between the boxes of his crosshairs, Fox let a grin slip across his face.

_Let's see how you like this._

Lasers blazing, the Arwing came up right from under the Venomian craft, catching it in a cross fire. It flipped over on its back, giving the cockpit a clear view of the Arwing approaching from below. Using this perspective, it managed to dodge several shots from Fox's attack.

But it couldn't dodge them all, especially while Peppy was also firing from the rear. A laser bolt from the rabbit's Arwing smacked into the Invader's right engine, knocking it off course just enough to point where one of Fox's lasers hit it square in the cockpit. In the ensuing frenzy, the Invader II was diced into nothingness.

Fox brought his Arwing level and eased down on the throttle, allowing Peppy to catch up from behind.

"I'm gonna kill him, I swear," Fox said between clenched teeth.

"Hey, you gotta admit he was pretty good…" Peppy replied.

"But all he did was shoot down Slippy."

"Oh yeah, good point…"

* * *

"You know," Falco hollered across the row of simulator cockpits, "I always wanted to do that."

"Do what?" Fox asked with a hint of irritation as he pushed up the glass shield which doubled as the view screen.

"Shoot you guys down, of course," he replied with a wide grin. Fox just glowered at him for a second before snorting and hopping out of the simulator. Peppy did the same, having some trouble dismounting thanks to his age, much to his own dismay.

Falco, after getting out, started walking towards Fox, keeping that grin on his face while stretching his back.

"So," he said, "Those Invader IIs are no match for an Arwing. We should have an easy time."

"And what makes you think that?" Fox inquired while crossing his arms.

"You wouldn't have shot me down otherwise, Fox," the bird said in an arrogant tone, "Plus I probably would have bagged the rest of you."

"I hope you're not planning on pulling a turn-coat stunt like that during a firefight, Falco," Fox said in a voice so serious that it compared to Falco's on the opposite end of the spectrum.

"Pfft, wouldn't be any point; it'd be way too easy."

Still wearing that grin of triumph, Falco made his way out of the simulator chamber. Peppy stepped over to where Fox was standing and placed his hands on his hips.

Fox shook his head, saying, "He's hopeless."

"Yep," Peppy replied, "But he's a damn good pilot. Evaded me for quite a bit…" The rabbit's voice trailed off as his face gained an expression of realization. "Wait, where's Slip?" he said before spinning around to take a look at his wingman's simulator. Fox turned as well, catching sight of the silent machine with its canopy still closed. They started walking towards it, not really knowing what to make of it.

"Slippy?" Fox hollered, cupping his mouth, "You ok in there?" There was no response, so he kept going until he was right next to the simulator itself.

Fox hit the canopy release button and the glass shield flew up, revealing a fully conscious frog who was still holding tightly onto the controls. Slowly his head panned over to face his leader, frowning as he did so.

"I'm dead, Fox," Slippy muttered, his expression a mix of fear and sadness.

Fox suppressed a wince after taking in the reality of that short statement. "Yeah, I know, Slip," he said in a sullen tone, "I know."

* * *

Due to their new assignment, the Starfox team had to shift its hours according to the new unit it was merged with. They'd been accustomed to keeping their time based on what time it was over at Corneria City, which for all intents and purposes was the basic time the entire Cornerian fleet used, but individual commanders could bend this schedule at their leisure. This squadron that they were being assigned to had done just that, shifting its entire timeframe forward ten hours. Exactly why that Captain Kadel had chosen to do so was beyond Fox, but he had little say in the matter. In fact he had none at all.

He was tempted to bring up another talk with the gruff Cornerian pilot, hopefully setting some more things straight, but Fox decided against it. Kadel was your average leader, which in the C.S.C wasn't saying much. While in the academy, Fox had found that they had an unwritten rule stating that authority was determined by intimidation, a concept which made little sense to him; what was the point of leading friends into battle if all you did was threaten them the whole time? Or did they even regard their wingmen as friends?

In any case, Kadel had the mark of a fine-tuned cog in the Cornerian war machine. His voice was stern and deep, commanding the respect and fear that their officers so longed for. His figure in itself was intimidating. Being both tall and muscular, he almost gave the impression that he should have been a foot soldier rather than a pilot.

Fox knew his time with this Captain Kadel would be hell; he didn't even need to talk to him for more than ten minutes to find that out. Kadel was just as hot-headed as Falco, only he bellowed out orders at the same time, expecting everyone to follow his lead without so much as a second thought. Being a leader himself, this would naturally cause friction between them, but the fact that he was as self-centered as Falco only worsened the situation.

It wasn't going to end well.

But that could wait. He had to get some sleep, if he even could. The entire team had to hit the sack early just to catch up to the 201st's schedule, which for now was the only evident problem that was facing them. Fox saw this as a blessing in disguise; the fights between Falco's rebellious spirit and Kadel's iron fist could wait.

* * *

"Right, well," the Captain barked over the squadron channel, "Since we've got four new units here, and since I don't really _like_ the presence of these four new units, I'll split them into their own group aside from Alpha and Beta."

Fox sighed as he sat in the cockpit of his Arwing, lazily grasping the yoke. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night, but that was the least of his worries. His team had rendezvoused with the 201st Interceptor Squadron at the designated waypoint just in time, which he knew gave Kadel the impression that they were slackers.

"You see, _mercs_," the Captain continued, saying the slang term for mercenaries with some spite in his voice, "Here in my squadron we've split it down the middle into two flight groups. Your sudden appearance is messing that up, so I'm just gonna give you your own little group to get you out of the way."

_Well it could be worse_, Fox thought, _He could have told us to drop and give him twenty in our seats_.

"So, boys," Kadel radioed to the rest of his squadron, "What do you think we should call these folks?"

"Gamma Flight, sir!" one pilot called out.

"Zeta Flight, sir!" another said, his voice just as clear cut and professional as the last one.

This was ridiculous. Just by hearing these responses Fox could tell the effect that this intimidation had on the flyboys of the Cornerian fleet. There was no dissent whatsoever because personal opinion as well as spirit was stomped into the dirt. And as much as he hated to admit it, Fox knew that pilots who thought for themselves were better assets to any squadron, including the likes of Falco.

"Bulldog!" a pilot shouted.

"No way," another rebuked, "Sabertooth Flight!"

This caught Fox off guard, and yet at the same time brought a smile to his face. It looked like there were still good ol' boys tucked in there after all, smothered by the harsh system the military had set in place. He almost felt sorry for them…

"Foxhound!" another pilot hollered into his headset.

"_That's enough!_" Kadel nearly screamed over the channel so loud that it hurt, "Foxhound sounds good enough to me. Designate your numbers, Foxhound Flight, so we can get on with this refresher mission."

"Private channel, Fox." That was Falco speaking.

Fox hit a few buttons on his console and replied, "Private channel, go ahead."

"Well at least the name doesn't suck," the bird said sarcastically.

"Hey, Falco," Fox warned, "You might want to… _settle down_ for this guy. He's liable to bite your head off."

"Nah, not likely," Falco responded, "I'll just shoot him out of the sky if he gets on my nerves. These Cornerian stiffs are all alike, I swear."

Fox shook his head and grinned. _Well_, he thought, _When the fireworks fly, I can't say I didn't warn him._

"Set course for heading zero-three-one, Beta," Kadel said over the squadron channel, beginning the refresher run, "Alpha, Foxhound, you're on me."

"This'll get boring fast," Fox said, his voice still transmitting over the private channel, "In fact it already is."

"Nonsense!" Falco replied in a giddy voice, "I believe it's time to have a little fun!"


	7. Chapter 6

**_6_**

With nothing else to do at the moment, thankfully, Fox sat up in the bridge of the Great Fox, watching as the Cornerian fleet around him sped towards the amorphous blob of green and yellow which appeared ahead. It was the infamous Sector Y nebula, renown as a hazard for passing ships.

But to any mercenary such as himself, the Sector Y nebula was also renowned as a hideout for criminals and smugglers, otherwise called the "slime of the system". Due to the nebula's dangerous properties, it made it the perfect place for people who wanted to get out of the light of day; any place where anyone wouldn't normally want to go could be classified as a hideout. Thus, several illegal space stations were erected in the immediate area, usually hovering so close to the nebula itself that no Cornerian patrol in its right mind would venture close enough to find it. An example of this was the Sargasso Space Zone, a small, self-sufficient criminal base housed in a rundown space colony structure.

Of course, this anonymity and security was dashed when Andross' Venomian fleet came rolling through. It had branched out on both sides of the nebula, soaring close-by as to traverse it as fast as possible. The other stations, along with Sargasso, were probably in enemy hands, being used as forward bases. If this wasn't the case, which was to say if Andross was as tactically inept as he was before, he'd probably demolished each and every station. War affects everybody; even those who try to stay away from it.

In any case, the fight for Sector Y was unlike the massive slugfest that had erupted over Corneria. The fleets had both branched out on either side of the nebula, splitting their forces in two. Since the Venomians' goal was to prevent relief efforts on Katina, they'd dug into their position, forming two massive walls on either side of the hazy cloud. In turn, the Cornerians rammed heads with these two defensive positions, eventually suffering enough casualties that they pulled back and set up their own line.

The result was a thousand mile wide stretch of No-Man's Land in between the two lines, populated by the drifting debris of dead or decaying ships from both sides. While the capital ships remained to the rear, the fighter squadrons were sent into the fray, facilitating one massive dogfight in between the graveyard of vessels.

While these fights were of major concern, however, there arose a new threat to the Cornerian war effort. Some time during the fighting, a squadron reported seeing giant robots flying among the debris, picking off squadrons and disabled ships that still bore crews.

Command had Intelligence look it over, and they concluded that Andross had deployed a squadron of experimental mobile suits, fearsome weapons of war that worked like giant robots. They had been brought in on a single carrier ship called the Saruzin which was custom built with a catapult mechanism that launched these weapons. The suits themselves, though not as fast or flashy as a star fighter, were highly maneuverable, and could react faster to enemy action. The result was one devastating defeat after the other, with entire squadrons attempting to take them down only to be kicked, punched, or simply shot to pieces.

Because of this outrageous hurdle, General Pepper himself had designated this mobile suit squadron as a target of high priority, prompting search and destroy missions to be taken out against it.

The 201st Interceptor Squadron was picked for one such mission. Whether or not this was because of the presence of Starfox was unknown, but the 201st wasn't exactly the best squadron in the fleet, so Fox could only assume that they wanted to throw his team's Arwings at this new foe.

Their mission was simple in wording but incredibly difficult in concept: seek out the Saruzin, the carrier base ship for these combatants, and eliminate it. The problems started the moment one looked at the context of "eliminating the Saruzin"; a single squadron was no match for an entire carrier ship.

This was also an inane plan because the Saruzin was nowhere to be found, though it was most likely tucked in behind enemy lines. Unlike the fighting at Corneria, Intelligence didn't have the advantages of a doorstep battle out there in Sector Y, meaning that enemy movements were generally unknown, including the position of the Saruzin.

Nevertheless, it was their mission, and they had no other choice than to proceed with it.

War was hell.

Fox was still wondering how his squadron would get along with the 201st. Their two brief refresher runs prior to arriving at Sector Y were fun indeed, for Falco at least. As expected, he disobeyed orders on a regular basis, badmouthed Captain Kadel, and even got a few of the free-spirited Cornerian jockeys to join in humiliating their commanding officer. Kadel was absolutely fuming, spouting curses and derogatory comments and even orders left and right; Fox couldn't help but think that the war hound was foaming at the mouth as he did so.

In any case, their relationship with the 201st was tenuous at best, non-existent at worst. Coordinating a search and destroy mission together with them from within enemy territory seemed all but impossible, not even taking into account the absurd nature of the mission itself.

But they'd do it somehow… Starfox would do it at least, with or without the help of their forced allies. Of that Fox was certain… to an extent.

He continued to watch the ships drift on by, their engines blazing in order to reach the front lines as quickly as possible. The other Dreadnaught-class destroyers were there too, practically smothered in shadow thanks to the sheer size of the Great Fox flying among them.

"ARRIVAL WITHIN THE HOUR," ROB reported as the robot looked up from a console at Fox, "CAPTAIN KADEL REQUESTS THAT STARFOX LAUNCH IMMEDIATELY."

"Already?" Fox asked rhetorically, annoyed at the Cornerian officer's blunt and ignorant attitude. "We still have some time before the mission officially starts."

ROB gave no answer, simply unable to comply. Fox shook his head and got out of the seat he'd been in for the past hour or two.

"Notify the rest of the guys, ROB," Fox said behind him as he started out of the bridge, "We're heading out… On _orders_."

* * *

Fox's grip on the yoke tightened as they neared the waypoint. The designated rendezvous point was close enough to the front lines to show the graveyard of ships that stretched beyond it. To any star-faring pilot it was an ominous sight, especially since there was no apparent action going on nearby, meaning it was dead silence in dead space filled with dead people.

He had no intention of joining them.

"Fox, I've got the squadron on my scope," Peppy radioed in a grim tone, "They're already moving in."

"Damnit to hell," Fox spat as he increased his speed, "Come on, guys, we'd better catch up."

"Right behind you," Peppy replied, speaking for the rest of the team.

The Arwings let loose on full power, soaring over the line of beleaguered Galleon-class ships into No-Man's Land where the 201st had already ventured into. According to his sensors, Fox noted that they were already five kilometers ahead of him. _Talk about an early start_, Fox thought with derision as he led his squadron over the hulk of a Forerunner-class. _That Kadel is lucky he has us with him at all… _

A bright flash like that of a star appeared in the distance for but a second. And then another one appeared just like it. And then another. And then three more in quick succession.

_Speak of the devil._

The 201st's channel came into existence with a bang; literally. The sound of an exploding Cornerian fighter and the hiss of static marked their first transmission to reach Starfox's ears.

"Shit! We lost Beta Two!" hollered a panicked voice.

"Cut the chatter, damnit!" That was Captain Kadel, his tone as gruff and uncompromising as ever. "Beta, pull back, Alpha, stick together!"

"Two more, on the nose!" yet another fretting pilot sounded off. "What the hell, they're too fast!"

Fox shook his head as the chatter continued, the numerous voices warning to "Watch for the guns" or "Don't get too close". The 201st was still two kilometers away, which was revealed to be within a denser pocket of slain ships than usual.

"Let's back up the squadron," Fox radioed to his team, "Eyes sharp. Keep on my wing; we'll surprise them from above."

The Arwings loosened formation and pulled up, soaring above the tangled mass of ships below. Once they'd traversed the remaining two kilometers, they dove down at full speed into the fray.

From this position Fox could see what looked like figures moving about. They had some kind of light about them, but it only appeared so often. These were the mobile suits, using their maneuvering thrusters to swiftly dodge the attacks by the Cornerian fighters.

One of them came to an abrupt halt right in front of the Arwings' flight path. Suddenly it looked up, and the yellow sensors on his head which resembled eyes glowed.

The gun in its right hand went flying up to meet the new combatants, immediately discharging a yellow laser bolt at Fox's ship. His shields absorbed the blast, crackling heavily as they did so. The sparks that were dancing about his canopy soon disappeared, and in their place was the massive form of a mobile suit.

Fox blurted out a curse as he jammed the stick to the left, spinning his Arwing as to avoid a collision with the war machine. No sooner than he had narrowly evaded destruction that he was hit in the rear by another two shots from the robot's impressive gun, pitching him forward and draining the shields almost completely.

He pulled back on the stick, bringing his fighter level with the scrap which was going on with the other Cornerian units. A bright flash to the left illuminated his cockpit, prompting his attention. Fox looked on in horror as a mobile suit came barreling through the fireball.

As he pitched to the right in an attempt to evade, the channel became even more clouded by shrieks of terror. The smoldering debris used to be Alpha Six, or so they screamed.

Fox found himself between two mobile suits; one to the rear and one directly in front. They'd caught him in a cross-fire, with little room to escape thanks to a hunk of debris which used to be part of a Grazan immediately above, and a nearly intact Galleon to his bottom left.

Trusting in the abilities of his craft, Fox smashed the stick to the right and held it there, initiating a barrel roll. At the same time, he put the robot ahead of him dead in his crosshairs and held the trigger.

The robot started firing, its laser bolts lancing out only to be bounced away harmlessly like swatting away a fly. Meanwhile the Arwing's lasers came at the mobile suit, smacking into the shield it seemed to be wielding with its free left hand. It managed to absorb the shots… for a time.

After the fifth shot, the kite-shaped slab of metal broke apart at the seams, splitting into shards which flew backwards. With his target laid bare, Fox had no hesitation in continuing his barrage. The green lasers continued to assail the mobile suit, blowing off fingers and then a hand and then the entire left arm, all of them either burned out of existence or simply ripped off from the rest of the body.

The robot hit the thrusters embedded in its feet, shooting up in an attempt to dodge the rest of the oncoming fire. Fox wouldn't let it escape, so he pulled up as well, only to find that the robot had landed on the hunk of the Grazan and was now using it as a firing position. More yellow bolts smacked into his ship, this time directly onto the cockpit. The warning klaxon roared as the shields collapsed entirely.

And for a second Fox thought he was as good as dead.

The robot was shot square in the chest, knocking it off of the wreck and at the same time obliterating the cockpit and its occupant. Falco's Arwing swooped over the wreckage where it used to be standing.

"Somebody's gonna pay for all this," he said over the already stressed channel.

Fox snapped out of his mortal terror as a Cornerian fighter came alongside him and attached to his wing.

"You alright?" a pilot who he was unfamiliar with said.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Fox responded, suddenly short of breath.

"Good, because there's more where that came from. Heads up!"

The Interceptor Mark II broke to the left, missing the oncoming fire of two robots directly ahead that were floating side-by-side. Fox was hard pressed to do the same maneuver to the right.

With klaxons still whining, people still shouting, and engine still purring, Fox was being barraged by more sounds than he ever thought possible in the airless vacuum of space. The firefight was condensed into such a small area that there was constant action; lasers incessantly darted among the stars and decaying warships.

But there was no time to dwell on it. According to his ship's computer, the shields had completely failed and were in the process of recharging. His hull hadn't taken any damage, yet at least, which meant he was still good to go.

And he'd need to be. He caught sight of a robot hiding among a floating mass of wreckage which was probably pulled into its current position. The suit was using this make-shift bunker to take pock shots at just about anything that flew by.

Fox mashed down on the trigger, sending energy into the main gun which in turn formed it into a ball. The crosshairs went red and the system beeped in a piercing tone, even though it paled in comparison to the klaxons.

He let fly the charged shot, hurling the ball of energy at the defensive structure ahead. It impacted with enough force to blow it all apart, the material already weak from the fighting and so giving way easily.

The mobile suit still sat there, suddenly wide out in the open. It looked to the right in time to see Fox's Arwing closing in at top speed.

Streaks of green light illuminated its head, shearing it clear off of the torso. Fox eased the yoke down, pulling the stream of fire down the length of the body until something inside it violently exploded in a hail of metal body parts.

"Scratch one," Fox managed to say into his headset.

"Scratch another, Fox," Falco hollered, "Come on, keep up!"

"Can it, Falc-"

"They're making a run for it!" Peppy yelled, inadvertently breaking up the argument before it could start.

"What?" Fox asked as he dodged another salvo of lasers.

"They're heading for the front lines! Don't let any of them through!"

Fox didn't understand. Why would the suits be breaking for the front lines by themselves? Pulling up on the stick, Fox shot up and out of the frenzy, giving him a bird's eye view and immediate and dreadful understanding.

The enemy was making an offensive, right then and there, during their fight.

Six battle squadrons of Venomian capital ships were steaming across the graveyard, flanked by numerous squadrons of Invader Is. The sheer number of them rivaled the number that must have been holding up their front. In fact, this probably was their front, moving forward in its entirety.

"Oh damnit, what do we do now?" a Cornerian pilot cried out.

"Shut the _hell_ up!" Kadel barked, "And keep shooting!"

"Peppy, private channel!" Fox hollered into his headset, hoping to get the message through. Scant seconds later the channel was established, Peppy starting out with, "What is it?" while a crescendo of lasers could be heard in the background.

"We need to warn the fleet," Fox said in a hurry, "They have to hold this back by themselves."

"I know, Fox," Peppy replied, "But… But I can't… get through to them. Interference or jamming or something, I don't know." His speech was broken up, probably because he had better things on his mind than talking, like not dying.

"What's the plan?" Fox inquired.

"How should I know? You're the leader!"

"Not now, Peppy," Fox rebuked in annoyance, "What do we do?!"

"Damnit, Fox, I'm serious! It's your call!"

Fox tightened his grip on the yoke again. Peppy was right, as much as he hated to admit it. It was his call, his decision.

Or maybe it was Kadel's, but he didn't seem to be plotting anything at the moment, simply yelling "fire" every few seconds.

Switching back to the squadron channel, he heard Slippy saying, "Guys, they're falling back!"

"What was that, Slip?" Fox asked his wingman as he opened fire on another mobile suit, scoring direct hits on the cockpit.

"I said they're retreating! The mobile suits are pulling back into that line of ships!"

Fox took that in for a moment. They were falling back… But to where? Well where else could they go except for the Saruzin? It was the only place they could land and re-arm.

They'd lead the squadron right to their target.

"Captain, Foxhound One here," Fox radioed over the squadron channel with the hopes that he'd listen, "The mobile suits are retreating to their base ship. I think we should follow…"

"Shut the hell up, you goddamn merc!" came the abrupt response, "We're not going anywhere! We're going to hold this fleet back!"

"Are you insane?" Falco butted in, "You can't hold them all back on your own!"

"I didn't ask you, bird-brain, now shut up!" Kadel barked.

"You'll get everyone killed!"

Kadel didn't respond to that one, though his answer would have probably been "Shut up" anyway.

"That's it," Peppy shouted, "This is Foxhound Two to the 201st, form up on my wing, we're pulling back to the front!"

"Under whose authority!?" Kadel exploded in anger.

"Under the authority of common sense, you twat! 201st, on me!"

Fox let himself take the time to grin. That was just like Peppy, always caring more about fellow pilots than the mission. That urge must have stemmed from losing Fox's father in battle on that fateful mission all those years ago, and he'd be damned if he let it happen again.

"Peppy, what's the plan?" Fox said into his headset, the commotion dying down as the mobile suits pulled out of the fight.

"I'm taking the squadron back to the front where they can help hold off the assault. You guys track those things back to the Saruzin, I'll catch up."

"This is _my_ squadron! How dare you order around _my_ squadron!" Kadel shouted, his blood boiling in complete fury.

"Lead, Alpha Five, stuff it, Captain," a Cornerian pilot said.

"Lead, Beta One, I'm with the rabbit, sir."

"Lead, Beta Three…"

"_Shut up!_ All of you!" the Captain yelled, "I'll have you all court-martialed for this!"

"We'd rather be court-martialed and _alive_ than dead, Lead. _Beta One out_."

Fox watched as the Cornerian Interceptors started to group up on Peppy's wing, abandoning the single remaining fighter which belonged to Captain Kadel. He noticed that there were only six fighters on Peppy's wing, not counting Kadel's ship, meaning that the 201st had lost five pilots in the period of only a few minutes.

"You'd better get going, Fox" Peppy radioed, "Or you'll lose them."

"Right," Fox replied, "Falco, Slippy, form up. Switch to our squadron channel…"

"And Fox," Peppy added, "Make sure there's something left for me to catch up to."

Fox nodded to himself. "Will do."

Peppy flipped around with the remaining units of the 201st and started off while Falco and Slippy regrouped. With two Arwings straddling his wings, Fox pointed the nose of his fighter towards the location of a fleeting mobile suit and hit the engines, leaving behind one completely dumbfounded and speechless Captain Kadel.


	8. Chapter 7

**_7_**

Fox was sweating. He never recalled sweating in the cockpit of an Arwing before. The ship had a fully pressurized and temperature-controlled cabin, meaning that it was always comfortable inside, the reason he never had to wear any bulky flight suit or a self-contained helmet. But he sure was sweating now, and he was almost praying that it wasn't a bad sign.

He couldn't afford to be nervous. Not him.

The wall of ships was getting closer, in fact a lot closer. The three Arwings had piled on the coal, going to max speed in an attempt to catch up with the fleeing mobile suits. In essence, they were speeding right into the entirety of the enemy fleet, head first.

But at least they had speed.

Fox's shields had recuperated by this time, slightly at least. He could survive a shot or two, but not much, so he'd have to watch for that as well, among everything else. Nobody ever said flying in a war zone was easy.

The distance meter on his scanner dropped exponentially, reporting that the enemy fleet was now within half a kilometer. As expected, they put on quite the welcoming party, sending a rain of red lasers towards the Arwings so much to the point of blotting out the Sector Y nebula.

Dodging one blast and barrel rolling through another, Fox steered his fighter through the hail. "This is some heavy stuff," he said over the channel, "Maybe we can soften them up a bit for the fleet."

"Right, I'll take care of everything above," Falco responded, pulling up so that he could skim over the surface of the fleet and pepper it with laser fire.

"Uh, Fox?" Slippy radioed, still hugging his leader's wing as best as possible.

"On my wing, Slip, we'll go under them."

Fox pushed forward on the yoke, sending his ship down through the barrage and just managing to get in under the first ship before they collided. The massive gray forms jetted overhead, occasionally offering a break in the line which let the yellow light from the nebula shine through.

While still dodging enemy fire, Fox let his crosshairs pass over the hull of a Dorisby and he opened fire. The green lasers harmlessly danced about its shields, one even reflecting off completely only to impact on another nearby ship.

_Damnit_, Fox cursed in his mind as he rolled to the left to avoid fire from the same frigate, _These guys haven't been on the front for awhile, and they're in good shape. We can't take them down by ourselves_. Captain Kadel's foolishness became all too apparent.

An Invader I swooped down right in front of him, firing off wildly in a vain attempt to hit the speeding Arwing.

_But we can still stop these guys._

Fox allowed himself a grin for a moment before he snap-rolled to the left, placing the enemy fighter dead in his sights. With the slight tap of a finger, the Invader was no more, the laser boiling through the pilot's compartment which left the side pylons to spin away aimlessly.

He barreled through the fireball, his shields easily withstanding the force and heat of the nova.

"Fox, looks like we have company…"

"Get this guy offa me!"

Falco and Slippy radioed at nearly the same instant, making Fox pause for a second just to understand what they both said.

"What's up, Falco?" Fox said into his headset as he pulled back on the throttle, throwing his Arwing backwards and past Slippy's craft.

"Fighters and fighters and _more_ fighters, oh my!" Falco responded sarcastically, "These guys aren't a problem, Fox, I'll handle it."

Fox ended up braking right into an enemy fighter, one of three which were tailing Slippy this whole time. He bit back a curse as the shock threw him forward and brought his shields down to pitifully low strength. At the same time the Arwing's shields ended up frying the enemy fighter's nose which happened to include its cockpit, knocking one pursuer out unintentionally.

Jamming the right foot pedal and pushing up on the throttle, Fox got in behind the two remaining Invader Is which were busying themselves by playing target practice with Slippy. Switching over to dual fire, Fox raked the tiny formation from left to right and then back again in a show of extreme overkill. The two enemy units didn't even have a chance, coming apart after only the first few shots and exploding soon after.

"You alright, Slip?" Fox said in a rush before diving down to avoid a direct collision with a low-flying Dorisby.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," the frog replied.

Fox nodded to himself and broke to the left, dodging what could have been the hundredth salvo of laser fire from the capital ships flying above.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the enemy fleet was gone. Their bulky forms were wiped clean with a shower of stars.

Fox almost expected there to be more ships still cruising overhead, and found the prospect of turning back to nab more fighters promising, but he kicked the thought of his head and checked the scanner. The last blip which was tagged as a mobile suit drifted out of sight at the very top of the display.

_No, we can't lose them, not now_, Fox thought with derision at the idea of failure.

His feeling of defeat was pierced by Slippy saying, "There's something up ahead… Looks different!"

His eyes snapped back to the stars, only just noticing that Falco had formed up on his wing.

Dead ahead was some kind of luminescence, a blue glow that paled in comparison to the massive nebula to his right but still noticeable amongst the blanket of stars. His mind couldn't piece together what it represented, though it really should have by this point.

"Well at least I'll still get a chance to kill them all," Falco muttered over the squadron channel.

And then it hit him like a brick wall traveling at hypersonic speeds. The entire squadron of mobile suits, at least those that still survived, had formed up into a massive wall out in open space in direct opposition to the Starfox squadron. The blue glow came from all of their engines combined as the mechanical beasts surged forwards, head-to-head with the three lone Arwings.

He felt that knot again in his stomach, only this time it tightened all the way right off the bat.

Fox could hear a slight whine, which he assumed was coming from Slippy. He honestly couldn't blame him; this was insane.

"Any ideas, Fox?" Falco muttered over the channel, holding a position on Fox's wing. Even the cocky pilot wasn't ready to get smothered by a bunch of mechanical monstrosities.

Fox didn't reply. Or more like he couldn't. He was the leader, and he was speechless. His mind froze over, stopped cold.

"Well, Fox?" Falco continued, raising his voice, "Wake up, moron, we've gotta do something! Come on, mister 'Fearless Leader'!"

"Cut the chatter," came Peppy's voice, the tone sharp as a razor blade, "We'll think of something."

"Whoa, hey, gramps, how'd you get back here so fast?"

"Cut it out!" the hare snapped, suddenly very acute of his age, "I may be old, but this Arwing isn't!" His voice eased off. "Now then, Fox, get a grip. What should we do?"

For some reason, Peppy's calm request flipped some kind of switch, and something started clicking in his head. He recognized this feeling, this feeling of sudden understanding and decision. His father always told him it was a part of his instinct, a natural ability he'd inherited from the previous generations in his family. 'Trust your instincts' he would always say…

He started looking at the situation from a totally new angle, a broader angle that wasn't limited by the feeling of despair or the sheer numbers of the opposition.

The mobile suits, numbering nine at least, had formed a massive diamond-shaped wall formation in front of the Arwings and were closing fast. They expected to simply bludgeon into the enemy fighters, and if that failed, they could always gang up on individual ships during the ensuing dogfight and wipe out the entire squadron.

What the enemy expected was for them to simply crash into each other, head on. Fox scratched this out of his mental list of options.

They could break away, he figured, trying to outmaneuver them and flank them. However, in order for this to work, they'd need to split up. The previous fight told him that lone ships were entirely too vulnerable, meaning that Starfox would be free-floating vapor within the first five minutes of fighting.

He scratched that off of his list as well.

But now he was left with nothing, the same dead-end he'd stumbled into before face first. There was no conceivable way they could fight these mobile suits in open space, on their terms, with their formation and numbers.

Numbers. He repeated the word several times in his mind. Numbers. There were a lot of them, and they were close together. They looked like a wall, an unstoppable juggernaut.

And what could he do to take advantage of this?

Smart bombs.

That was it. It was the only way. A salvo of bombs with their targeting systems active could do severe damage to the enemy formation, forcing them to break up, if not destroy them completely, depending on how long they held their position while the sky lit up.

"Cut your engines, guys. Switch over to smart bombs," he said into his head set while typing in a number on the keypad which resided on the main console. "Turn on the IFF tracking and set to detonate when they come within ten meters of an unfriendly target."

"So that's our plan?" Falco retorted, "Throw a bunch of rocks at them?"

Fox scowled. "I'm open to any suggestions, you know."

Falco shut his mouth.

"Alright, aim for the dead center of that group, and fire on my mark." Fox's grip on the toke tightened as he moved his thumb up to depress the launch button.

The mobile suits got closer and closer, but still out of their own effective firing range.

"Fire!"

The four Arwings, all stopped dead in space and arrayed in a small diamond pattern together, unleashed a bomb each. Fox looked on in concern as the tiny shapes soared off towards the wall in front of them, totally ignoring the maneuvering thrusters on the nose of his ship while they worked against the recoil from the launch.

A small figure appeared on the console, and he spared a glance at it. It was marking the distance between the smart bombs and the mobile suits. The numbers dropped exponentially.

Eight-hundred meters.

Five-hundred meters.

Two-hundred meters.

The massive glow of the mobile suits' engines seemed to dissipate as they broke off in all directions. Not a moment later four massive flashes erupted directly in front of them, large contrails of energy lancing out in various directions, mimicking the shapes of stars.

And then the stars disappeared. And so did the mobile suits.

"Did… Did we get 'em?" Slippy said in a subdued and equally uneasy voice.

Fox squinted at the star field before him. A few tufts of yellow-orange gas could be seen where the mobile suits used to be. He started to grin.

And then a star was eclipsed for a brief second. And then another disappeared for a moment as well. The grin washed clean from his face.

"No," he radioed back, "Not all of them…"

"Oh, well that's just fu-"

"Slip, what are we talking about, number-wise here?" Peppy blurted out, interrupting Falco's curse.

"Uh," Slippy muttered as the sounds of a mashing digital keyboard could be heard in the background, "Uhm… Sensors report five unknown enemy targets, bearing four hundred meters ahead…"

"We've got company!" Falco hollered as his Arwing broke off to the side and gunned its engines. A yellow laser bolt lanced by where his ship used to be, nearly missing Fox's wingtip.

"Damnit, heads up! Break off!" Fox shouted as he instinctively jammed the throttle forward. A trio of yellow bolts greeted him almost immediately, one of them managing to catch what was left of his shields before he dove down to evade the rest.

Suddenly, Fox found himself head-to-head with three of the remaining five mobile suits, and worst of all he was alone.

Jamming down the right rudder while yanking back on the stick, Fox pulled his craft up and away from the enemy robots. He could see the yellow flashes whiz by on either side, skirting his shields by inches, if not even less.

"Shit! I can't shake this guy!" Falco nearly shouted over the channel. Fox paused for a moment, trying to comprehend that the jockey was actually outmatched for once.

"He's quick, be careful!" Peppy said in an urgent voice.

Curious, Fox released the rudder but kept the yoke back, bringing his Arwing around in a horizontal loop to the mobile suits which had stopped firing upon him. By the time he'd brought himself back around, the enemy units were gone, and in their place was an Arwing darting to and fro, narrowly evading the yellow lances from another robot.

But this robot was colored differently, the white panels slathered over with blood-red paint. Fox could only guess at why this was so, but perhaps it signified that the pilot of the mobile suit was the squadron commander. However, the different paint scheme made him stick out like a sore thumb, an obvious target.

_Then again, if he's really good, it wouldn't matter if everybody's gunning for him, would it?_ Fox mused.

He shook his head; back to the task at hand. Falco's fighter jinked and juked back and forth with every passing second, flying through dizzying maneuvers in an attempt to shake the mobile suit ace who was tailing him. However, like Peppy had warned, the red robot was in fact fast, most likely equipped with better maneuvering jets than the average grunt, not to mention that the pilot was incredibly skillful on his own accord.

Fox had to at least get his attention, so he snap-rolled to the right and fired wildly in the scarlet enemy's path, missing every single shot but still managing to garner attention. The mobile suit fired off braking thrusters and came to a complete halt before spinning around to face the interloper.

His finger squeezed down on the trigger even as the crosshairs were lining up, but he was already too late. Before he could blink, Fox noticed the mobile suit invert itself and fire the engines on its feet, pushing it down at incredible speeds. Instead of breaking away or speeding up like he should have, Fox inverted his Arwing to take a look at the enemy below.

It was staring right up at him, gun raised and ready. An intense feeling of dread swept over him in that very instant.

A spray of green light broke the tense situation just in time. The red mobile suit was smacked in the back by two of the bolts, prompting it to flip around and bear its shield. Fox's eyes sprung up to spot the Arwing that was letting loose in what looked like all directions.

_Is that Slippy? _

The mobile suit brought its gun to bear on the new target and gleefully opened up, barrels blazing. Still spraying fire, the Arwing started to dip down and then broke to the left, dodging a few shots but still taking the brunt of them with its shields.

_Yeah, that's Slippy. _Fox frowned as he eased back on the stick, pulling a wide, vertical loop which would bring him level with the red mobile suit. The other Arwing pulled up and darted past, waggling its wings in an impromptu signal to "go get him".

Fox obliged, finishing the loop. To the robot's pilot, the backside of one Arwing was replaced with the front of another, a front which was now ablaze with green lasers. Fox tapped the trigger repeatedly. He kept the barrage up for as long as he could, but he knew it wouldn't be long enough; the shield that mobile suit carried was absorbing the shots like nobody's business.

And then the scarlet shield ripped to pieces, having borne the strain of so many direct hits over the course of its service that it could hold together no longer.

Fox could only imagine the pilot's face as the lasers stormed past the broken shield and into the visual sensors atop the robot's head.

The metallic cranium came apart slightly before a bolt sheared it right off of the body, cutting the visual feed to the cockpit below. But Fox wasn't done; there was no room for crippling in this war. He kept at it with a vengeance.

More lasers streamed in, dicing the mobile suit to pieces and burning off the red paint which adorned its now battered surface. A single laser found its way into the power core, detonating it while Fox's Arwing closed to a matter of meters.

His ship soared right on through the fireball, unscathed as it would appear. Fox didn't even close his eyes this time; he figured he must have been getting used to death-defying stunts like that.

But his shields were through with it. The main beeped and orthographic images of an Arwing appeared on the display, demanding his attention. Red outlines surrounded green Arwings. Worse yet, the outlines were blinking.

_Damnit to hell!_ Fox swore within the confines of his mind, _My shields are overloaded! _Worse than simply being "down", the shield generator had undergone enough stress to simply collapse in on itself, overloaded, overheated, and basically destroyed. In this state, there was no chance for them to recharge while not under fire.

Fox felt a sudden twinge of guilt and sympathy. Just like the pilot he'd recently vaporized, now _his_ shield was gone.

He shook his head, figuring that it was just another distraction that would get him killed. As far as he was concerned, he was stuck in this along with his comrades, so he had no choice besides continuing the fight.

His Arwing kept flying forward, distancing itself from the furball between the Starfox ships and the Venomian mobile suits. After he'd cleared half a kilometer, Fox hit the right foot pedal and brought his fighter around to head back in. He took the time to check in with his squadron and get a report on the fight.

"Falco, here," the bird responded almost immediately in his characteristically cocky voice, "These guys are nothing. I already vaped two of 'em."

"Peppy, I'm ok. Managed to nab one myself."

"Slippy, here, I took a few hits but I got one!"

Fox sighed in relief; the remaining units of the mobile suit squadron had been wiped out, meaning that, even though their carrier ship was still at large, it served no purpose since its primary function now existed as some free-floating debris.

"Uhm, Fox," Slippy piped up. The worry in his voice came through nice and clear over the channel.

"What's up, Slip?"

"I'm detecting a capital ship closing in, bearing mark two-seven-zero, on my nose." Fox brought himself around to face in the same direction, but he couldn't see anything amongst the stars and the haze of the nebula.

"Distance?"

"Eight kilometers… And closing fast…" Slippy's voice trailed off. Fox noticed that annoying knot in his gut again; it hadn't gone away even after the robots were eliminated.

"Fox," the frog abruptly continued, "That's the _Saruzin!_"

"Heh, are they crazy or what?" Falco piped up. "Without its little garrison that thing is as good as slag. Let's hit the thing and get it over with."

"No, wait," Fox said into his headset, "Even if it is just one ship, we're still only four snub fighters. I don't think we can handle it…"

"Then why the hell did we head out here in the first place?" Falco snapped back. Fox cringed, having failed at his attempt to further safeguard his team. Falco was right.

Was he being overprotective?

"Well it looks to me like it's fair game, Fox," Peppy said, breaking the momentary silence, "I say we go for-"

The channel began to crackle and hiss, prompting Peppy to stop mid-sentence. A short burst of static broke the cacophony for only a few seconds before the channel went silent again.

"_Don't party just yet, punks_…"

Fox's blood ran cold at the voice.

"_It's time to try our new weapon_…"

It didn't take him long to figure out what had happened. The enemy had decoded their transmissions and broken through to the channel. Not only could the enemy hear them talking, but they could talk through it as well.

Worse yet, they couldn't even change frequencies: if Fox told his team the frequency to change to, the enemy would get the same info and switch accordingly.

"Fox, our communications are compromised," Slippy started.

"No shit," Falco retorted.

Fox scowled. "Cut it out! Slippy, where'd that transmission come from?"

"Uh, the Saruzin it looks like… No wait… It came from in front of the Saruzin… _Incoming!_"

Something big and white shot past his canopy, the thrust of which buffeted his Arwing and pushed it off to the side. Fox instinctively broke to the right, even though he knew that whatever it was had already flew well behind him.

Kicking up the throttle, he soared back over to where his squad mates were milling around after they'd demolished the mobile suits. They formed up on his wings without even being told to do so.

Fox used the left rudder to bring his Arwing about to face in the direction that the thing went. "What the hell was that?" he asked, not expecting to get a definitive answer.

Peppy was about to say "maybe it was a missile" but Falco cut him clear off, blurting out, "We're gonna find out!"

Immediately the white shape soared back into view, flying at unprecedented speeds. With a bright flash of light it came to a complete and utter standstill, stopping just in front of the Arwings.

It was another mobile suit, but it was decidedly bigger in every way. The gun was bigger. The shield was bigger. Its engines were bigger.

And it was ready to do some serious damage.

"_Run_," the voice of the enemy pilot said in a mocking and unnervingly predatory tone.


End file.
